This piece is Ronalds first work on N.S, I know it not a perfect work that while I posted it For your constructive critism. Thanks For your endulgence.
Now We are here.
We matched from the medival years.
Fought the war with Sungo.
Drank blood when it got lbloody.
And ate the flesh of raw beast.
Now its our past.
Fought the war with Sungo.
Drank blood when it got lbloody.
And ate the flesh of raw beast.
Now its our past.
Green was the colour of our land.
Air fresh from flowing river mist.
Night was fearlessly funfilled with moonlight tales.
Crystal clear was the sky as it shone of pure blue.
Now its all dark.
Air fresh from flowing river mist.
Night was fearlessly funfilled with moonlight tales.
Crystal clear was the sky as it shone of pure blue.
Now its all dark.
Pinocchio brought darkness to our shores.
Parkaged in the leaves of a big book of laws.
Compelling us to venerate.
In exchange of our children For mare mirror.
How cheap We were sold.
Parkaged in the leaves of a big book of laws.
Compelling us to venerate.
In exchange of our children For mare mirror.
How cheap We were sold.
Anger and fury flowed with the gods.
Sungo became the dragon unleashed.
Spitting hate on the foreheads of his beloved.
Igniting the flames that burn till date.
Africa where at thou.
Sungo became the dragon unleashed.
Spitting hate on the foreheads of his beloved.
Igniting the flames that burn till date.
Africa where at thou.
Where at thou farm, so wild and healthy.
Where at thou yam, the barn are empty.
Where at thou children, full moon night are lonely.
Where at thou O gods, We need your blessing.
Africa so far you have sailed.
Where at thou yam, the barn are empty.
Where at thou children, full moon night are lonely.
Where at thou O gods, We need your blessing.
Africa so far you have sailed.
So far into the wild, your homes are empty.
So far into the oceans, your nostril now long.
So far into those books, your gods ate nothing.
So far with Pinocchio, your norms are dead.
O Africa, home longs For you.
So far into the oceans, your nostril now long.
So far into those books, your gods ate nothing.
So far with Pinocchio, your norms are dead.
O Africa, home longs For you.
When will I rejoice again, She cried.
When will the mat be full again beneath fullmoon.
When will my barn have yam in it.
When will my children come back to me.
Africans, home calls to you.
When will the mat be full again beneath fullmoon.
When will my barn have yam in it.
When will my children come back to me.
Africans, home calls to you.
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