folks  
this is the last song of the evening  
time for one last round  
so pick 'em up and  
slam 'em down...  

couples headin'  
to the dance hall floor  
some lonesome doves  
walkin' out the door  
take a look around  
into the lonely fa-ces  
broken hearts  
yearnin' for tender gra-ces  

see the hopeful eyes  
lookin' back at you  
you've seen each other  
from across the room  
if you act now  
you wont be turned awa-y  
another day  
might be too la-te  
  
oh i know  
life ain't been kind  
we've got - wounded hearts  
but there's still time  
so - here's a chance  
ya never know  
tho it's  
just a dance  
it could be more
  
so ya  
take her hand  
pull her in real close  
music playin'  
soft and slow  
you close your eyes  
as she softly si-ghs  
  
starlit shadows  
from a disco globe  
we fade to black  
on this winding road  
lost and lonely  
we pay the toll  
just one last dance  
before we go  
just one last da-nce  
before we go  
  
and these bitter days  
we watch them waste away  
into the whiskey nights and  
the smoke filled haze  
we're singin'  
Willie -n- Waylon  
pray the music keeps playin'  
as we drift away  
into this whiskey haze  
shadows of a memory  
keep draggin' ya down  
one last round  
you slam it down  
you close your eyes  
as she soflty si-ghs  
gently swayin'  
across the floor  
  
starlit shadows  
from a disco globe  
we fade to black  
on this winding road  
lost and lonely  
we pay the toll  
just one last dance  
before we go  
just one last da-nce  
before we go

I remember when we were dodgers,
of intiger's paracetamol of computation...
Not knowing it was a fertilization...
That better production...

I remember when I ran a relay race
With fellow folks on blue and white
Singing a song, 'Fire  on the Mountain,

Run, run, run!'
The noise and sweat is over
today
My legs are on the stop line...

And the baton is taken...

If I remember how we learned...
we leaned...
we ran as union...
I feel like reversing to school...
Returning to form a union...

But if I remember the ugly and sad times, I had in primitive period...
I feel like not going back ...
To the dead period
buried on ground

Suddenly today comes a time
When all graduates come
To remember primal class, methinks there comes not a time
When all GHS products would come...
On dining table and dine...
Like when we were primary children...

Dear our teachers you are like farmers
That farm on our lands
For long planting seeds
Know that it will never give heat
Your service is unrewardable
Only God can reward you
All the shade we spread now
Comes after your fertilization

Written By

Muhammad Auwal
Ibrahim