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Your soul is a beast
Ploying men to iniquity –
their minds are ‘Shekaued’
How can your eyes remain blind
To these piles of carcass
As mothers cry a million tears
Tears… of gushing red?
Black keys play dirges in our Home Of Peace
since peace has been banished
and our once bold fortresses are non-existent
You will sell yourself
In the market of slavery,
Kill in the service of killers
And blaspheme
As a fan of falsehood…
Till all there is are echoes of silence
And the land is saturated
With epitaph of the dead
Written by: Stanley Princewill McDaniels
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