|
Hear the song of the sons of the soiled oily soil
the deprived youths of the despoiled Delta
whose dreams have been drained to nightmare
whose voices have been screaming
whose eyes have been streaming …
if you see us go on rampage
don’t think we’re mad
don’t think we’re bad
just know we‘re sad
that:
every acreage in our village
has been
ravaged and pillaged
by oil thieves and oil spillage
if you see us go on rampage
don’t think we’re mad
don’t think we’re bad
just know we’re sad…
we’ve got to fight and stage a stoppage
to the deluge of rage and carnage
and guard our storage against spoilage
lest, they garbage our heritage
damage our language
and ravage our village beyond bandage
if you see us go on rampage
don’t think we’re mad
don’t think we’re bad
just know we’re sad…
like ducks enraged by the abduction of ducklings
or the kidnap of its eggs
we’ve got to pursue the birds of prey
to any length, breadth, depth or height
if you see us go on rampage
don’t think we’re mad
don’t think we’re bad
just know we’re sad…
for the air we breathe is now hazardous
the arable lands on which our forefathers farmed are now arid
the fishes in our rivers have been enumerated
the streams from which we drink are contaminated
our people are daily decimated
our environment; our very existence is threatened
we’re endangered…
we’re endangered species
and we must safeguard our lives, our future
by any means; at all costs
if you see us go on rampage
don’t think we’re mad
don’t think we’re bad
just know we’re sad…
|
|
