Club in the hands of freedom,
Raised high by passionate fighters
With the will to succumb to peace.
Scuffles of pain indebted to all.
Raging machine guns speaking
Banging the hatred deep into all.
Silence of the aftermath puffs
To the clanger that lingers
Like a tornado whirling round and
Hey! It has been bought with a
By the deaths of the forefathers
And the martyrs of old.
Despite the recent gun battles
With revolvers and shotguns
Threading the old pathway.
Again, it has been paid for
The peace we crave so deeply for
By fellows relaxing in the grave.
The dancing ripples of war
The splashing punches of hurt
Placates the old and the young.
Peace have I bought with a price,
At the expense of my own life.
The tears of our martyrs.
written by Tokede Daniel