Our knees are bruised and the marrows spewing

We had begged, day and night, for the bitter end,

We had begged for our snap but his madness hikes.

There are people who oppose our plight, sever us, dock us in a burnt prairie for their selfish desires,

They strangulate us, rip us of our rights, of being freemen,

But today, we are tired of the incarceration;

The barbwires, chained around our serrated necks have maimed us, one by one.

Our sons and daughters, tell the devil that we are tired of the chains, and will no more be confined.

His gape had been scary because of the machineries, but tell him, it’s never again

There are no machineries, they now know who’s the devil,

And the sensible uniformed-men are aware, that his days are gone

And they’ll never be used as brutes, which they’re not.

They are, but our sons and daughters.

 

We couldn’t write, talk, stand nor walk; the suppression was bitter, and piling up.

But today, we will write, talk and walk;

Our itch for freedom will never ease; for we are leaning on the baobabs, our men in uniforms, our book and our rightful votes; so our bearing will be forever.

We will not turn our backs to the wind,

Today is our liberation day;

Our sons and daughters, today is our sunshine.

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