My country my country

My country my country
The land of my fathers
A land filled with milk and honey
With abundance to share to friends and even to enemies
A land with an overflow for lending, yet live at the mercy of hunger and poverty

My country my country
The land of my mothers
A land where most resources abound, yet go about seeking the help of the less endowed
The land with enough breed of intellectuals
Yet being govern by those who are of no intellectual substance
A land where the supposed protectors of the county’s territorial integrity are seen molesting it’s own citizens
Yet still claim to be the most discipline

My country my country
The land where our fathers and mothers queue up and even die while waiting for their pension, yet our politicians receive their pay without tension
The land where all the laws you could think of exist, yet the ones to implement, lack the right habit to exhibit
A land that poses itself as a giant, yet unable to stand before mere little ants just because they nickname themselves as militants

My country my country
The land where you steal thousands, you are promoted
You steal millions, you are celebrated
You steal billions, and then you find yourself at the helm of political affairs
Deciding who gets what, when and how
Not minding the priority on ground

I cry for my country
O yes I cry
I cry for the generations already born
For they are like children without father of their own to call on when the day is dawn
I cry for the generations yet unborn, for same fate awaits them to come if nothing new is done.

ERIC URENMIMOREN AIMUFUA