Trusting almost got me killed,
Love hurts more than I can imagine,
And being real still got me hated.
The street has never been rosy,
The potbellied men got money for election malpractices
But can't feed the poor masses.
Today they supply us with guns,
Tomorrow they expect assassination,
Why should I kill my brothers?
When I have illiteracy, poverty, lack and tribalism to...
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