The hunger thrives in the nation
and the boys are hungry for success.

The bursting dreams that scream fortune
The hustle and the muscles it tear,
Failures and rejections; scars men must bear, and
The long-legged network of village people.

But there is a feast in the town,
a stream in the desert,
and not beyond us, no,
not from Sokoto but in our sokoto.
Show us the way, open our sight
we pray you, God of heaven and earth.

Now listen, you blissful genii of wealth
and angel of goodness,
pick up the call. Send help.
Bless the boys, give us triumph now.

I live in a funny island Of soulful consciousness, Where legion of look alikes are The one you see Might not really be me.
I live behind thick veils Of bottled feelings Where the heart is fair And love is true and real But sometimes hidden.
I live in brown shells Of self-imposed loneliness Where the tight lips, And the gentle face Are just deep embedded mask.
I live in fragile walls Of made-up stubbornness Where goodbyes are spoken Loud and clear, But never meant.
I live in grey codes I'm not very good, not very bad Always between the white and the black. I'm soft, not weak. I bend, but never break.