Here comes an indigenous voice,
Crying louder and louder again,
Overlord calls my voice a noice,
No one to attain me again.
Oh the bedrock of our forefathers,
A benched other maters.

Oh citizens, a recalless fugitive,
Bringing up a date back agony,
Yet no soul to forgive,
Living unborn in perpetual poverty.
Oh the giant of Ikwo,
People of unkwon..

Her garments teared apart,
Her neckedness uncovered,
Oh Things Fall Apart,
Center Could not hold.
Oh culture sleeps,
The gods are slumber.

Tears and Blood overwhelmed my heart,
Like divide River Jordan, no conjunction,
Silent war is my people’s mat,
Mind restless, no solution.
Oh no, future….!
When shall we cline to your colour?

Chukwuku okike!!!! Our wrath
Covers our repentance,
Hanged a myopic
And lashed a prediction.
Lunching awkwardness,
Promoting prejudice.
Oh, hear help
And Trace maps.

When shall my people, come home,
My joy Twarthered to war tone.
Ancestors are vagabond,
Left me alone and bounds..
No brother in my home,
All are strangers.

Overlord! Lift landlord!
Repair my wounds
I can’t carry on,
I drop my weapons and guns,
Let me stand to challenge others,
When comes my son to delivers others
My story shall be heard across the globe.
No one shall regret to come my place.
oh Father, I lift my last voice,
Restore my vigor
And let my fragrance diffuse.
So, help me Creator.