From the date of birth, when we are legally tender/
Bereft of legal tender, life grinds to a halt, like we jumped in a blender/

So we search for golden fleece, by paying embolden fees/

Education is the key, to drive us to the riches, we so decree/

Take caution, the race is not to the strong, but to time and chance/
There is no expression, you talk within parlance/

When u toil, but no thumbs up...Then life becomes irrate, and then the bombs drop/
So we mob blood as they hoodlums mob...The rich require protection so they join the mob/

Golden flees! where art thou...your absence is turmoil, a flippant bout/
Some make A's and work in bars...others make it with Ease, see fortunes ajar/
...
Everybody searches with intensity...The town has become a heathen city/ is there a future in Nigeria...to see the future we need Nine girraffes.