Back to the street,
Gallivanting around the bridge,
Waving at the needy near the lagoon
It's the song of the street.
Who will hear the clamouring voices,
Of the oldies begging for alms?
In their background; wearing rags and scarfs.
Street kids mourning in pain and chains;
Nobody hears their cry asking for foods;
With bowls just to survive with pennies.
It's the song of the street.
Gently man with a khaki uniform,
Tour around the street in the scorching sun,
His muddy dust certificate on his left,
Lamenting about serving his father's land,
But ended up being in the trenches.
His pains, trauma, and failure in life,
The unemployment figure in the nation.
Yet, we believe it's still in progress.
It's a song from the street.
Mama always says an adage to my ears: "Make Hay when the sun shines,"
This often motivates and captivates my soul.
It makes me hungry for success.
Street Hooligans hailing the rich-
Whom drives raucously at them,
Flinging a thousand just for them to conquer.
It's the song of the streets.
Papa often says that time is the foe of man;
Time waits for nobody nor any man.
Always makes me hustle more on the street,
Yet, the hustle hasn't paid.
It's the song of the street.
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Kudos, Mr President!
Icing with our thousands and billions.
Our political lions roaring vicariously at us,
Doesn't care if the Poor are suffering or not.
Living on the mainland inside a mansion, Enjoying our taxes and sweats..., but
Who will I blame?
Our Education is still in progress.
No adequate infrastructures and materials.
Yet, we still say, 'we are leaders of tomorrow,'
Thus Mr ASUU toying with Our education,
Embarking on strikes to curtail small income.
It's the song of the street.
Our Nation is still in progress.
Our future leaders are drug stoners.
Should I blame the leaders ruling us subtly?
The economy has Been paralyzed,
Still in progress, we all hope.
Where is this nation heading to?