If the myth is true,
Then every politician in this country deserves an apple,
How do you explain this piece,
When our hearts are battlefield,
Our lips plot bloody coup to overthrow silence,
Yet! Freedom of expression is now a civil war,
Nobody dares to dance on the streets when its sars on the beat.
Where is the devidence of democracy?
Cos me na Craze in a Demo I dey see!
I’m not asking you for money,
No! I just need a morsel down my tummy and live in peace.
You stay for house hunger go wan kill kill,
Comot go farm and get slayed
In na fito kuma,
Acee kar nayi magana!
Bayan gashi kullum ana maishe mu kiyashi.
If it was back then,
Your favorite sheik would have been on shedding tears on live TV,
But yanxu!
aii shugaban kasar musulmi neh,
Dan haka I should keep my mouth shut.
You and I are just like pawns on a chessboard,
Nobody cares if we live or die.
Behind the bars has become a familiar place for boys who dreadlocks,
We keep developing cold feet like we need to get the earth warm,
We are insects trap in a valley of rodents,
Come to the north,
And see how human lives equals a livestock.
Right in this ditch we have so many lives stuck,
Every state has a capital except our state of mind,
Babu kwanciyar hankali ah kullum ina ah tsorace.
There is nothing tickling about this parasitical politics they play,
All they do is fill our heads with lies,
And like a quack midwife they cant deliver us,
See! the truth is,
This husbands men are too week to stop themselves from deflowering us,
So before we carry belle born bastard..
It is time we say no to this political rape….
Let secure our north
If dem no fit do,
We go do am.
Punchline & Muftiey
The Myth is a spoken word poem by Punchline and Muftiey that talks about the senseless killing, kidnapping and banditry happening in the North.
How our leaders seem to care less about it and force us to stay mute when we intend to voice our agonies.