Today is the forest’s birthday; the lion, the king of the forest, would come out of his cave, and roar loudly. He would stroll round the vast forest, roaring his greatness, His benevolence and good leadership. He would be joined by his family, they would hobnob, about their achievements, drink and be merry.
But it all sounds like the same old music, the real song is been sung by the birds.
The baby has refused to grow
She still crawls at forty-nine
The leaders brought her to this state
They have given her nothing
Corrupt in everything
Politics of the few
They enslave the masses
Eating the national cake in chunks
Leaving crumbs for the hoi polloi
Hope is but a mirage
They are deaf to the song, blind to the truth. So they puff their shoulders and brag of all the good they have done, all they hope to do. Mutter some promises.
My friend the snail (Fr. Mathew Kukah) calls them “accidental leaders”, a colossal misfortune to rule the forest. We all agree. We just hope they realize and things get better. We don’t smile and celebrate the independence, because there is nothing to celebrate, we are rather happy for the free day.
But it all sounds like the same old music, the real song is been sung by the birds.
The baby has refused to grow
She still crawls at forty-nine
The leaders brought her to this state
They have given her nothing
Corrupt in everything
Politics of the few
They enslave the masses
Eating the national cake in chunks
Leaving crumbs for the hoi polloi
Hope is but a mirage
They are deaf to the song, blind to the truth. So they puff their shoulders and brag of all the good they have done, all they hope to do. Mutter some promises.
My friend the snail (Fr. Mathew Kukah) calls them “accidental leaders”, a colossal misfortune to rule the forest. We all agree. We just hope they realize and things get better. We don’t smile and celebrate the independence, because there is nothing to celebrate, we are rather happy for the free day.
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