I have not seen enough,
But I've been fed to the brim,
Trim of vast vain of lame men
And trained in the rain to dance
To the banta of another fanta face

Save this race,
Away from the track to raise
Great and other Gates
Where colours and donors can match
Untiring the road with shed lives

I beat the banta of hope
To the requiem of the carnage
Where the sun can not be stolen
For like the Benin Art.
Because thieves are the guards

This song will heal all our wounds
For we all shall pass
And this note will remain
For the foetus to learn
And grow to wear the love colours.