The land is soaked with blood
The sand is soaked with tears
Oh
How many barrels of blood must be spilled
to know that so many souls are gone?
How many basins of tears does it take
to have more than enough tears?

I am the voice of the little child
crying in the wilderness
I want to caress the flowers that spring
out of the ground of my homeland
I want to watch the ripples when rain falls
I want to play with my mates on the sand
along Chu Ngoke street
I want to sit at home and watch my parents
returning from a bountiful yam harvest
I want to stand at the playground and watch the
traditional wrestling
I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni
talking drums reminding me of yesterday
and a great future ahead
I want to chase away goats from eating the
maize in my mother's garden
I want to open my mother's ***
and pick a meat out of the soup
I want to see my homeland
Sweet little home of ours
Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

I am the voice of a man
Whose hope lies in shackles
Whose homeland lies in broken images
A town deserted and forgotten
I am tired of begging for crumbs
When my barn is filled with yam
Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps
Please take me back to Alode
I don't want to die in another man's land
I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme
I want to be buried near the grave of my father
and see my ancestors usher
me home with a shining crown
Take me back home
Take me back home

Take me back to Alode
Let me see beautiful women that
toss about the streets
Let me admire their buttocks
Let me stare at their *******,
those two round objects protruding out
of their clothes, ******* that
could make me feel like a child again
Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful
lady of my dream
Let me lay her down on my bedside and
make life worthwhile
I want to go back home and see
the sunshine with it's illuminous rays
and the tender droplets of the rain
Oh Please take me back to Alode
Please take me back to Alode

Take me back to Alode
Let me touch your borders
From Alesa to Ogale
From Echieta to Onne and
From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say
the hands cannot reach
I want to touch the land of Alode
I want to touch the Eleme soil
I want to touch the soft green grasses of home

Written by
Jonah Okpabi