The crown’s still eyes closed
Never to gaze at the chiefs again
Laid in the earth’s womb to sleep on
Or watch over the empty, voiceless throne.
Here comes amidst us, peace without a prince
Here to rule for years to come without sacrifices
Though we were voiceless, but there was a voice
That bred unity in the stagnant community
Soon we got tired of peaceful living
Asked for a royal head in lieu of the abstract king
And so it came to us, a diminishing return
That gave a new head the old crown
A new found song a sad end
And the celebrated two ignominious run
Nothing but the empty palace and people
Whose hearts palpitate day and night
Over robbery harvests and gunshots
Fired by us to kill ourselves.
Alas! Let’s roll out the drums
Not for the funeral of the casualties
But to celebrate our feats
Of no growth, no development.
Gun is our love,
As we sent the crowns on exile.