(for Gani Fawehinmi 1938-2009) I Cry, if you must cry let your tears to town seek out the seashore burst the river bank and the rushing flood spills sweat short of life and the Rich blood still tact in vein unable to flush clean the ocean and other banks of self-dynasty to mess beyond disgrace in display of plumpy chopping well faces red in eyes only for a new boss to patient time to turn to mess Remember the swiss return of the dark goggle dictator lodged to rest in the vault of the pockets of the new helms men Tell me who would die again and again unable to clear this country gutter way of jagged jagga jagga Tell me what use is tears unable to unmake this country to care for the little little needss of little people II Sing if you must... sing and let me hear your voice crack unable to rid off the riddle the palm nut dried out of oil when easy heads can die each other to break the cocnut But who gulps the honey drink and eat the white meal of golden eggs unhatched steamed away from shores- on and off Heads are aching and cure comes first before feed and Shell can live off here and there and leaves off the rest to regret unable to live on the land... What is the worth of the hanged men of Ogoni and the masked hanger- Shells up 15.5 dollars not plus in the behind to return to the same land for the oil to flow again defying songs and guns III And if guns must bang bang over how come sufferers are leagued out of the combat for change held hostage...by boys in mighty firepower for loaves of cash to settle personal score and way out of the bunkerers to bunk us off our everything for the single price of fuel Guns make no meaning to freedom tied to the end of napping a kid for ransom IV Die can you die to live up the memory of another life lived in struggle against the law legislating people out of existence to inherit a shared mourning with Gani Tell me is death not richer in indifference outside of life there is no change possible in defiance of guns and dictators the conscience he powered to engage only for elements to script national content of 2/3 to muffle his truthful voice into a lumber fit only for the V Praise if must but prize the praise with precise words unable to reach out to the dead and the spoken words we remain unable to read the mind of the many friends of the people Who would not forgive the stones in defense of a forged certificate but can we forget "the chopped-up" signed up nationality to endorse the People Destroying the People and together they harvested the votes sowed for the conscience tripping change into the future and break the heart of Gani into an old horse...not tired But friends not friends of the people yesterday hurry up to be counted among the mourners in disbuersing some little little cash to friends of the people And another friend sums up cancer from the cigar of a cell mate any wonder why Gani rather himself alone VI What can you become again give life to bones to your remains alive you are already nothing can we take away if we don't stand in loyality to one word Revolution till the last