We cannot tell the hand of time
We cannot tell the face of the sky
For everyday we live in fear

Fear of bullets
Fear of machetes
Fear of stones
Fear of sticks
Crashing upon the skull
In some secret places
No one is safe anymore

The images of death and dying
On screen and scrolls
Images of battered bones
Shattered skulls
Mangled mien
Make hearts to melt

We cannot tell the sound of the drum anymore
Legs ready to dance
But we cannot tell the sound
Coming from the drums on the Rock

Even when guns have taken over
Villages and Hamlet's
Even when local warlords have divided
Our land as trophies of bloodless war

We cannot tell the voice of the drum
Beating strange sounds in our ears

The land is in shambles
But the strongmen play gamble
With lives of legions
We only hear on air 'we are ontop
Of the situation' but lives dying

Being
Butchered
Slaughtered
Cut down
Gunned down
Houses burnt down
Children macheted
Women gang raped

But the strongmen are ontop
Of the situation
Horsemen of the apocalypse
Riding upon the horses of death
With no restraining order
Of any kind

What shall we tell our children
Shall we even see our children
With this pattern of devastation...

2020