Greener Pasture

The evening is still and I hear it sounding,
The leaves rustle and I see it coming,
The whine of a planes engine
Driving into forever,
Let me fly with metal wings
To the land nearer to tomorrow.

Once upon a time I was exiled
To a land of black skinned men,
A land at the trigger of Africa’s gun.
Nigeria, my prison. Let the warden watch
For soon the cry of jailbreak
Will be my victors song
As I exit my exile towards the ocean
Where teapots are finer than marbles
And meadows vaster than brick homes.

Take me away to Chicago, Morocco, Oporto and Tokyo,
Exchange my naira for dollar notes,
Make me richer than Zuckerberg,
For in my father’s land, I slave away
The crows wrestle on my house top
And mosquitoes visit on warm nights.
I will fly with metal wings
And forget this land of sorrow,
“Alas!” Some will say, “he’s gone to greener pastures.”

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