The pigment of her people vary But their root traced to same route. Minerals in her; buried. From her veins flow oil, Her vegetation; thick and rich.
The western hurricane blew across her field Seeking to annihilate Her precious produce But firmly she stood, Resisting any oppression. The struggle was grave But victory at last.
Her eyes drip with tears For her people now live in despair. Same sword that drove away the enemy Is thrusted into the chest of a brother, Unity has become a thing of the past.
Why can't our differences; buried And the flag of oneness hoisted high again?