Land of Worry

Give me a keg of palmwine That I may drink to my demise For to die is gain and to live is pain In a land not sorry for our worry Like a toddler cruising in a lorry Our lords sailing on the yacht Driven by the waves of poverty Gulping glasses of champagne Squashed from the grapes of agony Lords eating fried lies and check-ins While we ride on a trolley down a bumpy gully To shatter our broken piece to bit pieces ©® Ishmael Ogbechie Portharcourt