My Cry

I can't imagine the cry ranged from my eyes Sweeping the floor like a flood. This non can imagine to be our lot. Despite all hands on deck for success to make Non can tell of how fate has thus loots us Adiye nlagun, iyere nikoje Can our days at tertiary be a waste? No, I mean never. Yet we celebrate the warming ass years after graduation But their sons a greater hope is laid While we at this end our strength put them in power Four years come and gone Our yoke daily compounds upon our glutton. That that which laid in us as of the Greek. We dare not enforce Gbogbo wa tije dodo akole sododo This thousand generations will benefit Less their eyes and consciousness are brought back No place of refuge to hope in our God For in all our yoke do compound in their sermons and acts. Our gracious God we pray you to restore us As that of the Samaria. © Olorunleke olorode