We live in the milieu of gore
And our eyes is bleeding of ichor.
Some beings were squandered untimely
And they call us headers of tomorrow.
Darkness encircling our nations
As if, we were born in a dark way.
This is sorrowful not rejoiceful
And within an hour our land was mournful.
Bawling is now consistent in realm
Growing day to day like sea mays
Herdsmen killing today, plateau killing tomorrow
When are we going to assuage of this war?
Because this is going cruelly.
Our erstwhile capital turn to dark place
The center of our home turn to bloody heart
Some Beings clamouring for prayers
We forget that what will make our land
great again is in our hands.
The day was reminiscent day
The day that green white green turn
Red white red
And The day is already in our historical book
Titled dark Lagos.