Wake up, wake up,
Ling ago you have been fooled,
While playing to the gallery,
Only with a bucket of rice,
Cash worth nothing,
Only to suffer for four years,
Until another election year.
The carnage of political thieves,
Looting our treasury for self,
Keeping our wealth in grave,
Some even build septic tanks,
So no one traces what they combed,
Knocked out of place,
A rival yet eat from the same plate.
That has been the fate,
Of our Nigerian dream,
We dream with enthusiasm,
Hoping that our many resources will do,
Alas! We are disappointed,
For what we have in abundance,
Suddenly they becomes the most dreaded.
We have tried to turn it out,
To make it our own thing,
But the people as few as they are,
Keep playing god and the masses slaves,
It is like we don't know how to do it,
A pathetic story to tell after all,
And now we head to the polls again.
Who says the result will be different,
Even at noon the cock will crow,
The wind will blow and something will come through,
It may not be in this dispensation,
But certainly we would scale through,
A hurdle is to be jumped,
That is what we would do come the next.