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Song for the Terrorist



They blow their heavy ballistic trumpet
To kill some of us
They proclaim they do it for love
A love that can only be felt through sadism
they are death’s co- worker
Sons and daughters of seasoned sorrow


They place religion above their fellow men
And do all they do with a backing from a book
We mean little to their stand of steadfast faith
In a name they vowed to spread their message

they are death’s co- worker
Sons and daughters of seasoned sorrow

They invite the night at day
So that we may go to bed too soon
With full tears we mourn those,
Who they have made their bed underneath ours
In fear we hold our friends without shelter
In grieve we console that body writhing in pains
they are death’s co- worker
Sons and daughters of seasoned sorrow

They shatter the walls of our hearts
And dim the beam of hope shimmering within
They break the nation and break a union
And amplify the depth of insecurity
they are death’s co- worker
Sons and daughters of seasoned sorrow



Jos is on fire, Kano is burning hot
Borno is volatile, Maiduguri is fuming
Zamfara is blazing, Gombe is melting…
The media, the people, the nation
A ghostly face of terror walks amidst us
Religious clicks; cruel politics; Terrorist ticks…
A minute silence to the dead…
We weep still, till we have back,
Our own true Nigeria and Nigerians
they are death’s co- worker
Sons and daughters of seasoned sorrow

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