This’s twenty first century Sierra Leone

A ravished land we’ll always call our own!

 

What a wasted bag of gifted folks

Roasting out in SUN-baked holds

What a fold of flawless flowers

Withering in the shadow of senseless powers

 

Rotten fish in shinny shoes

Dance around in smelly loops

 

The piercing cry of a lonely cow

Drown the sound of a butcher’s blow

Tearing flesh from broken bone

Spurting blood on a sterile throne

 

The land is gripped in choking holds

And all the flowers killed in folds 

 

Welcome to the rat-hole of trashed-up truths

Where Greed manufactures senseless brutes