By: William Tubman
On the outskirt of west africa;
where flames of fire are more than hell,
stood my land in the middle of nowhere. Citizens are caged with agony in their own land like a police cell
and the masses are not counted when it comes to government affairs.
I hear the cries of Patriots from land.
Tired are we, from the dominance of tryrant.
In my country the sun is now dark
and the moon doesn’t shine at night.
For the evil of man has taken away our paradise.
I hear the cries of patriots from my land.
The son of man creeps my skin.
For the cries of my people are thrown into dust bin
and my country is now an elephant meat,
where politicians are only after the money.
I hear cries of Patriots from my land.
Tears from the four corners of my land
and the masses are furnish with sand.
The national cake is being divided based on sentiment
And the masses are mere electoral elements.
I hear the cries of Patriots from my land
Tears flow from Nimba for Taa Wongbe.
For he is a good man, with great credentials.
and no aspirant has his astute potentials.
Patriotic Nimbians,let’s vote him for a brighter day.
I hear the cries of Patriots from my land.
We have fallen prey to the one that promise us change
And instead of change they have made us amputee.
Just the other day, there was an increment on surcharges for calls and megabytes.
If we see this today,who knows what tomorrow may bring.