WINGS OF FIRE
Ko-ko-ka; The Oyinbo man has taught our shoes to sing
Now our soles beats drums and our souls merry
Just like it was during the days of Ayankunrin
He who possesses a talkative goat-skinned cylinder that murmurs tunes
But time and tides have passed
And several cudgels have worked on fleshes
The very flesh of thieves
Fault and Fate I sincerely plead
Make no man travel with wings of fire to his grave
For the kettle has decided to call the jug black
And it even called the pot white
See clouds and crowds
Dashing out a necklace braced with fire
To a pilferer
Forgetting we do not have enough fuel for ourselves
Then he who looted the coffers
Earned a salute in return
Babanla Hypocrisy
The man with blemishes has thrown the first stone
©Felix Odukudu
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