Monthly Archives: October 2014

MEN OF WORDS (A Short Absurdist Play)


In an empty compound a group of young men are gathered under an old mango tree. The loudness of their conversation echoes in the empty space. Just then, the gate creaks open. A tall dark-skinned lady strides past them. They begin to make catcalls, she ignores their advances. Suddenly she stops abruptly, turns around and smiles, walking back towards them

EDWINA: (Smiling) Did someone say something?

ALL: (Smiling sheepishly) Yes!

EDWIN: I remember you! Are you not Neofloetry the poetess?

EDWINA: (Rolling eyes) Yes I am and you are…

EDWIN: My name is E-Edwin. (He introduces the rest of his friends)

EDWINA: Oh wow! My namesake. Nice to meet you all. I often see you all gathered under this old tree. What brings you together?

They mumble excitedly among themselves

ALL: Poetry!!!

EDWINA: Oh! Exciting. I love hanging out with people of like minds.

GRACIANO: We all can SEE that… (Looks at Godson)

GODSON: Shut up Grass!

EDWINA: Can I sit with you for a while? I don’t have any serious thing to do for now.

GRACIANO: (Whispers to Godson) See this babe o! She no dey fear us o!

GODSON: Shut up Grass!

She excitedly sits with them on the bench. Edwin willingly gives up his position

EDWINA: (Excitedly rummages through the contents in her purse. She pulls out a piece of paper) Can I read something I just wrote today?

EDWIN: Sure! I’m sure we’d love to hear it! Right? (Silence)

EDWINA: (Reading) YOURS AND MINE: I see trophies in between your thighs
No, I can’t help but crave them in my bench thoughts
Your poise is a voice singing riches with no coins
And the traveler is home no more a wanderer eating stones
It’ll be real, everlasting bond
The moment I want to break with you
So don’t fret, i am no flirt
I don’t deal in lies and dirt
It’s not bad crave, but a trophy in between your thighs
You’ll be forever on my mind
All I hear from you dear
Seems everlasting and clear
I see you see trophies in between Africa and Jamaica
But my tentacles embrace signals from afar
I won’t fret cos I know you want to commune
With this sweet wine taste on the tip of your tongue
I know you want to cross my twin hills with your fingers as feet
I know I’ll be in your contact lens a perfect fit
But just let my exhales and inhales mark time
With yours and mine
Hoping that all will be fine
Cos this time, my smiles won’t take strolls down no aisle
And may that one sweet day change no clime

They become uneasy. All smiling.

EDWIN: (Loud applause. Stands) Yours and mine, were you talking to me? I want to be that person… and may that one sweet day change no clime

GODSON: Edwin! Shut up!

EDWINA: (Surprised) Hian! What did i do?

EDWIN: Oh no! You didn’t do anything! Let’s continue… (Smiles) Jamaica and Africa i want, so don’t fret, i am not a flirt…

GRACIANO: (Calmly) Neo in fact I’m trekking with you to your house now. (Stands up with legs akimbo, hands on waist. With a smug look. Edwina laughs hysterically) I am serious!

EDWIN: Please sir, let me go first, with due respect sir.

GRACIANO: Okay, Neo… choose ye this day bla bla bla… (Cuts pose)

EDWIN: Neo, you know a twin is more bloody than an afro (Points to Graciano’s afro). Neo, two men are sighting your sea come and take one home.

EDWINA: (Ranting in metaphors) Two boats rowing towards an entrance. Unfruitfulness lurks beneath the sea.

GODSON: Beneath that thought, are sacks full of uncertainties…

Both Godson and Edwina’s eye lock for a few seconds. She looks away sharply.

GODSON: (Continues) Uncertainties the attainment of vain hopes, like talking into the ocean.

GRACIANO: (Uneasy) Pick your choose please, my feet weaks, my abracadabra can rue the rancor
and succor the painful manicure of her bashful libidinous craw-craw (Scratches head. Dances a few steps away from the tree. Returns)

GODSON: …Then pricosine is needed to heal d libidinous craw-craw

GRACIANO: A doctor you are though self acclaimed. Didn’t they tell you twas after me Pricosine was named?

GODSON: Then chukudi is your new name and not the grass men smoke to get high!

EDWINA: (Laughs hysterically) Highness is on rampage because you all are high on words. Your Royal Highnesses

EDWIN: My lady, you are what i am here for not a fight on words and nomenclature.

GODSON: Unlike d winner of war of words, so many whores want to word up.

EDWIN: (Inches closer to Edwina) You said, I want my trophy! I want to celebrate with that sweet wine taste on the tip of your tongue

Graciano frowns. He kicks around an empty Eva water bottle.

EDWIN: Neo, my apologies please…

GODSON: (Stands up) Hmmm… Uglyyy! Grass, It is too earlyyy… too earlyyy to frown.

GRACIANO: Remember you are our clown, that was before you went down town…

GODSON: (Smirks lips. Lick them and inches towards Graciano) Look! I roll with up-town girls not cave rats or church rats.

EDWIN: Neo please save us!

GRACIANO: Oh, I’ve heard that before from below my carpet…

GODSON: It’s your time Carpet master, 2015, cross carpeting, changing them like tampons! Vowing to tar our roads only with political lips of deceit

EDWIN: Neo, please save us!!

GODSON: Thumb printing impunity and impunity to 20billion nonsense

EDWIN: Neo, please save us!!!

GODSON: Political menstruation, no tampons,

EDWIN: (Beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He wipes it off with a face towel) …Oh, dear Neo, save us… (Gasping for air)

Edwina watches on with surprise.

GODSON: The last time in Abuja, they gathered friends and called it conference of 12million nonsense, Grass caught them in his poem and gave them a naked shame, the Shepopotamus, a mere domestic furniture want Rivers to wink in wike! Chai!

EDWINA: Wow! What a handful you guys are…

EDWIN: We are used to this rants by these two… Poly-ticks! What a shame…

GODSON: (Ignores Graciano. Walks back to sit) How grammar ruins beautiful speeches! I am no saint but a scent of a fresh air and not breathe of hot air!

GRACIANO: (Yells out loud) GODSIN, POETIC OKPORLOCIOUS AGBEROCIOUS WHORE (Applauds. Gives him a thumbs up)

EDWINA: Racketeering, but I love when my boys fight with words, slinging them across the blue sky of this wonderful shed filled with poetic bubble heads.

GRACIANO: (Angrily) Boys? I no follow. I’m a MAAAAAAN! (Clenches teeth. Strokes his scanty goatee)

EDWIN: (Bursts into laughter) Maaaaaan o!


EDWINA: (Smug face) Shut up! I am your Mummy from now on, so I have the RIGHT to call you ‘boys’! If you no gree, take the LEFT door. War Man, War men!

GRACIANO: (Grumbles) If na so e be, then I will go left. (He scurries off)

EDWINA: I think I have to go now…

EDWIN: No! Please stay…

GODSON: (Angrily) Edwin, Shut up!

EDWIN: I will not!

Edwina gets up and leaves. They do not notice this.

EDWIN: (Realizing Edwina is out of sight) You see what you and that afro man caused? I didn’t even enjoy the lady’s presence.

GODSON: Edwin… (Scratches head) Shut up! I say…

EDWIN: (Upset) Ok. This is it for me… (Carries his writing pad from off the ground) Remain here with your okpolorscious philosophy. (Leaves)

GODSON: (Breathes in deeply and exhales) Oh! What a relief!

Pulls out a bottle of wine from his small duffel bag; pops it open and sips from it. He brings out his phone and plays Peter Tosh’s song. Relaxes his back on the tree.

(Whispers) Good riddance to all these poetic whores…




Here’s a conversation between Mr. Pen and Miss Pad. I can’t help but eavesdrop on them. By all means enjoy this.

In a dark room. The evening moon fills only a small corner.

Pen: (Ponders) What can’t i spill my ink on?

Pad: (Laughs) Every surface is meant for you to bleed on

Pen: It’s not a joke…

Pad: Calm down dear, you are meant to love every surface you come in contact with

Pen: Yeah, that’s true, but sometimes i get stuck and refuse to spill ink

Pad: Why’s that?

Pen: I don’t know exactly why, but i know some surfaces are not just right for my tips’ poke

Pad: Very funny… (Flips)

Pen: (Angrily) Stop flipping. i am distracted by your wantonness. You always have a way to get me drawn to you

Pad: I will keep flipping until you fill me with all you’ve got

Pen: (Heaves) You win. i have no other option

Pad: Good! wait a minute, i heard you a while ago that you’ll love bleeding until you hunger for more pads…

Pen: Uhmmm… I guess so…

Pad: you mean you’ll be cheating on me?

Pen: (Defensive) I never said so…

Pad: Then..?

Pen: I love you very much, but i have no other option. I can’t stick to you alone. After all, i have seen several of my kind spilling their ink on you. i never complained (Mumbles) may be i did…

Pad: Well, i don’t have an option too, do i?

Pen: No you don’t

Pad: Neither do i

Pen: Our relationship never ends. I guess we know how to handle our flirtatious lifestyle, right?

Pad: (Flips) I guess so…

Pen: Anyway, let’s get ready for tonight…

Pad: Oh no!

Pen: What again?

Pad: I can’t say what it is…

Pen: Just be prepared for tonight. I don’t know what our user will write again tonight

Pad: (Heaves) She is always writing. I am scared…

Pen: (Surprised) Why is that?

Pad: (Sobs) I have just two pages left

Pen: Oh!

Pad: Yes… that means, we may not continue in this relationship again

Pen: Never mind, no matter how fresh the other might be, i know i will still be brought to fill up your edges and spaces

Pad: Oh well, (Mockingly) i see you are almost finished too and will be replaced, then, we will be old; you’ll be thrown away, while I’ll be kept safe.

Pen: Well, thanks for reminding me. there’s really no need for me to feel bad, my colleagues will continue from where i stopped; Poking pads like you and bleeding my ink on them.


Moments later, the writer walks into the dark room, turns on the light and picks up Pen and Pad to write.

Both: Oh no!

Pad: i have a feeling this story will end both or one of us

Pen: I’m guessing it’s you…

Pad: (Angrily) Shut up! That’s not funny…

Writer begins to scribble voraciously on the title ‘THE UNTOLD’ passionately. She tears a page from the writing pad and throws it in the bin.

Pad: (Shocked) She just tore a part of me! I am doomed!

Pen: Sorry Pad, I will miss you, but i know i will soon join you…

Pad: Shut up jor! Not funny anymore

Pen: Ok, i will miss you

Writer is done. She drops Pen and safely tucks Pad in a mini book-shelf.

Pen: Pad… (Calls out softly) Pad, can you hear me?


Reading light is turned off. Pen Heaves



1. Point Blank(MySoGyNy)

They were told to submit to the bearded ones in order to suffer no abuse
That’s all they know; that’s all they do, so the balance of life fears no misuse
It appears they are weak by stature
I’d say it was so, courtesy nature,
so why hate? Why discriminate?
Why harbour so much violence against fellow primates
Rape, Abuse, just name it to the end
She might be your sister or even your friend
You look her in the eye and say ”I hate you”
But that has to change; it should be ”I love you”
The cry of the breasted ones should tickle your ear
Inspite of their weakness, you’ll still need them here
Hate & Violence never seem to win
So change all those & we’ll change everything

#Dheric #D’Arch_Angel


Here I am standing before a reflection of true self
I am constantly beat down by rants of my weakness
Mama told me to clean myself is next to Godliness
But Father’s kind tells me I am a weaker vessel

Brothers have made an object of ridicule
A slave to the male gender I have now become
I sought for help from the society
I go on working tirelessly with unsure brevity

Now, I’m the offender; an apt bulimia pretender
The media fed me daily with a fake picture
Something I craved for my future
Now, I have become the poorest quality of my soul; am I Pandora?
I have been blamed for sufferings; now must I suffer?



And Woo,a crown upon a lass’s Head,Dwelling in men’s aristocracy,
branded fragile la petit,her strength a taboo
Her place they say,beneath a man’s shadow.”  
“weed oh weed,the garden clean,
and the boiling pot, to you charged,
Your head be bowed when men speak,
And hearken i say,to their sovereignty and call.” 
“Weaker being,helpless specie,her term,Once she’s grown,to kitchen,to child bearing,
Blind her from civilization,from education,
Ten lasses is nothing,a lad  is best!.”
In the parliament,she has no say!
How? How can a woman over us, rule?
The kitchen,the bed,her place,they say,
Her diploma aside,forever second best,she is.








She came from the loins of adam,      when you add an ”M” to adam,            that makes her his madam,                    today,he leaves her in the farm.                          She speaks with a profound wisdom,  her ideas made you survive autumn,  deep inside you know she’s awesome, yet you never let her talent blossom.
Hey misogynist,let her have what she deserves for thee,
She gave her best and humbly served,                                      tolerated the humiliation and pain you swerved, still you have the nerves.                         Thou Misogynist

~ Doingsman.

6. No title

They were told to submit to the bearded ones
In order to suffer no abuse
Thats all they know; that’s all they do
So the balance of life fears no misuse

It appears they are weak by stature
I’d say so, courtesy nature
So why hate? Why discriminate?
Why harbour so much violence against fellow primates

Rape, Abuse, just name it to the end
She might be your sister or even your friend
You look her in the eye and say”i hate you”
But that has to change; it should be”i love you”

The cry of the breasted ones should tickle your ear
In spite of their weakness, you’ll still need them here
Hatred and violence never seem to win
So change all those and we’ll change everything

#Dheric de poet


Hit her! Floor her! Call her names!
Take away her dignity,it belongs to dogs
Her heart you must break,give her no break
Chain her soul amidst sorrow,grief and all

Pull the smile with a slap from her silken face
Replace it with a scar unpleasant to look
She ought not to challenge you to things
Disgrace her for she is a fool

Pour upon her all hatred that you may bear to give
Shower her with gifts,gifts of pain
Her emotions and tears are gods you must not worship
Her garments must war with the day

Do these to no woman but your own mother
See to it that you inflict upon her sorrows
Then shall you be clear of all wandering wonders
Of the hurt of the women folk.





Where is Nigeria’s rue reflection?
I ask a million naira question
What is left in the jar of what is right
Why is the right now considered left?
See, this in no News, so I laugh in present tense
The future before is sugar-coated in wailing pretense
Begging to be free from this social wackiness
Everybody has a part to play in this social blindness
Our states are littered with guber-criminals
Their show of absurdity follows in its scaffolds
You were catapulted into the highest office to rid off corrupt cancer
Instead you traumatized us with your reckless plunder
Your offices are exalted
Misfit, miscreants elected
You caused untold havoc with your stark dishonesty
Your die-hard pessimism is an OX-ye-MORON apparently
Then, I breathe above the head of a tired democracy
Where pot-bellies and Agbada’s love Kleptocracy
You flag-off Partocracy where the part is larger than the whole
Your finger points the nation’s vault into your deeper pocket hole
Your consciences need scrutinizing
You are constantly a bowler, you hands need sanitizing

What is left of what is right?

Our educational system shook hands with the leprous
Our teachers, glorified illiterates, very erroneous
How then can our children survive this strait-jacket?
They are no violent patients to be stuffed into a confining casket
Our VCs now clink glasses behind closed doors
They have joined in the act of people deceiving people it harbors
ASSU strike, DOCTORS strike, NASSU strike
The entire sector wants their fair share of the hike
They have chosen this way of life for selfish conflict
They say, give us this, sign on this agreement or else you’ll be kicked
Can NEPA-PHCN join in this action?
Don’t they always go on per-second ration?
Don’t they always go on a per-second ration?
No one cares if they hold power till rapture takes place
Once again, I laugh in past, present and continuous tense
Nigerians, stop this theater of the absurd
For the good of generations yet unborn
Where is the limit of our good luck nation?
Should we pretend while the center caves in?
The villa rocks are murmuring
Our sins constantly screaming
The flame of normalcy depleting
We need to bite the lips that’s lying
Let the candle of hope burn in our minds
Let our pens and voices prove mightier than bombs
Let’s draw from the well of what is left
To do what is proper and right.





Let us carry our diggers, hoes and forks, so we can build us a mansion
A mansion so high that our ancestors would wish they were us
Let us not forget to create passage ways like a maze
so crooked that only us can unravel the trails without haste

Let us carry armored cables of truthful truths tied around our necks and arms
so that we will connect illuminating vision even inside this darkness
Let us not blow our whistle in the market square
so that the ‘Osu’ will not join in this fanfare

Let us not hesitate to carry our transistors and bicycles
so that when our world decides to turn blue and gray,
we will pedal afar off this bay
instead of hovering in aimless circles

Look not to the left nor to the right
Let us gather our strenght to move ahead even when in fright
Let us not forget to remember that the blueprint of this mansion will not be in black and white
It will be printed instead in your medula

This mansion will not be like the White House, House of Assembly or even the Aso Rock!
Ah! so, hand me that spatula
Let me mix the finest concoction that will cause you to forget,
the saboteur’s way that led you blindly to an unknown dock

Let us build us a mansion that will house all the memories of our heroes past,
and all they did in their sphere
Listen carefully, lend me your ear
Please do read in between lines

Let us build, build and build a mansion
That’s deeply rooted in our dynamic cultural heritage
No! No! let’s not build it that way alone, please
Let us make sure it is deeply rooted in religious ambiguity,
Ah! not at all, should we dig, dig and dig deep into the pages of time past with impunity?

Look! Don’t even try to create small dark compartments in this mansion
We will not hesitate to kick you out without pity!
My friends, this mansion will be built to target our youths, the unemployed
Eighteen million of them will oppose the two hundred thousand spaces her voice echoed

We are this mansion dwellers, for this is a great challenge of issues and questions
Let us whisper to the information peddlers

In this mansion, our high values will not be disregarded
We will keep it guarded
We will never be stampeded
Our voices will rise from below these mountains above us
and shake their very foundations
I believe in this mansion, its’ truth and honesty
I strongly and silently blow my whistle
Come with your diggers, hoes and forks
so we can build us a mansion in history’s record.

Impossible is a word only found in the dictionary of fools




Hi, I am excited to be here, let me introduce someone
Her name is Miss Pinochia Liesaetan
One of the many children of a well know man
You know, the one you pretend to detest; the old wretch
Anyway, she is happy standing here before people who love to carry her in their mouths
Most of you probably met her for the first time as children
Others did as adults; I won’t call you blind or remind you of how much fun you missed
So, allow me to pop your minds, open your eyes
Reminisce of how you called her names attached to where black and white lies
Yes, those extremely popular bits in places that beats within your hearts
Thumping your chests before making you dress and marinate her with words
Making her look beautiful, sexy, striding with Devil’s Red Prada on fast track from your head
Down to your mouth on the runway of your tongue to its tip
Oh Damn! She is sexy!
Your ears cannot resist her
Your tongues tastes, licking off the sweetness she has
Laced with bitter-sweet batter from her father’s bakery ogled in treachery
Your mothers and sisters have tasted her severally
They kept her, safely tucked away tied in the helms of their wrappers
In fact she has always been their best friend forever
Whenever they want your fathers to be the bread, they the winners
See, they make an unbeatable team
Your fathers have cheated on your mothers with her
They could not resist and still can’t look away from her sexiness
She leaves them breathless with the curves of her figure
She makes them go haywire
They take her everywhere, even to their lover’s houses
Using her against them
Pinochia is number one!
Your entire families use her successfully
Even you, use her against yourself absolutely

See her, bare-faced, not pretending to be anyone else but herself
She is bold, not afraid to frolic with anyone who cares to take her on a roller-coaster ride
She possesses success in magnitude, causing your souls to be tormented
She makes you love her more at every strike of the your grand-father’s ticking clock
Her concoction of mannerisms lies in a big fat belly of crawling lies
Hiding in the cloaks of false prophets’ tongues
Lying in the name of the highest God, Yaweh!
Who kicked her father out of Eden after lying to Eve with rehearsed hisses of lies
In fact, He hates her family with so much passion
He sent his beloved son to kick them out of your heads and tongues
Unfortunately, you can’t handle the truth that both of you broke up
That you are free from her shackles
So, you search to see like a peeping tom, to see if she still exists In your head
Of course, she still exists, when you just can’t take your eyes off what she fed
Your thoughts amplify her, in you, she is bloated
She creeps slowly into the shadow of your minds
Kissing them with the kiss of slow death, making you beg for more
Like she is making love to you, you grunting like pigs
Now, that’s dirty
You seized the opportunity to keep bluffing like a gambler
Screaming, “I want more!!!”
Same way your forefathers craved her in the past, sometimes black or white
Are you all branded racists?
Deliberately holding back facts, speaking carefully
Exaggerating your caresses on her body before you pout to kiss her
Kindly let me go, she doesn’t belong here
I know she is sweet and sexy
But can also be bitter and ugly
She will destroy you ‘cos evil reeks within her borders
I am no saint, but I know she is everywhere;
In the media, homes, schools, churches
In your bodies, your spirits and your souls
Crunching you, choking out every evidence of truthfulness
Making sure you are disoriented left confused
Run fast away from her! She is not a part of you
Not originally created to mingle with you
Let me remind you that her Dad is the ‘Father of lies’
You are a child of a truthful king, filled with truth and grace
So your Dad says to her Father
“Get thee behind me Saetan!”
Her father raced off, evacuating her from your minds.




Around to
Commune with
Their gods with leaking pots
Their tongues curled back and forth
Placating these gods with their dripping words

Their gods
To commune with
Their worshipers
Draped in torn clothes
All words cascaded down their deaf ears

It was
An odd scene
Their cracked voices
Echoed to the walls around them
Their leaking pots emptied their dripping words




With our daily flow, flowing
Who cares? Ask these crazy parties demonstrating.
Political giggles, a time to mingle and dribble.
Sadly only our cash in reserve we hope to collect after a thumb print in their favor.

Political menstruation; no tampons

Sometimes you’ve gotta be reckless to wreck less
Their hard ass hole rock promulgate this assertion regardless
Of this without -field wickedness
About to be introduced into this fray of this foresighted blindness

Political menstruation; no tampons

This era digs deep into the earth of our hearts
Nothing flows from the veins of these times
Political astronauts floats in oblivion, their faces painted in red
Their actions, flushed fading lines, we certainly are overfed

Political menstruation; no tampons

Every past known thief wants to be a governor, senator, or even puppeteer commentator,
Their faces suited with smiles on their posters.
How strongly these impostor hope to be the true messiah!
Can they die, no, but only for their pockets.

Political menstruation; no tampons

Lords born lords; words burn swords drawn
2015 pictures red back grounds no crayon
What melodious blown fun can turn from a shot shut trombone and an agape tampon
Crazy disgraceful graze-full dance steps…DE-camp on

Political menstruation; no tampons

Echoes from shriveled bowels hide men in corners of uncertainty
Pot-bellied pockets entertain termites pinching with impunity
The fake score cards of these polithieves on bended knees aptly display insane idiocy
Our eyes televise the memories of L.I.E.S,  is this democracy?

Political menstruation; no tampons

Changing political parties like tampons
Does not make a black sheep a white sheep.
In the ship of corruption they sail and bag for their unborn
While we romance with poverty, our daily companion

Political menstruation; no tampons

Gone are those days when men sporadically express madness before a blind audience
Gone are the days of their copy and paste simplistic non-chalance
Gone are their crimson red lies that bled heavily on their monthly circle, faithless reality
Gone again, i say is their ejaculating dance exposing flacid phalus, unable to produce seed of productivity

Political menstruation; no tampons

Someone help Graciano tell these obese athletes who run
That porn is a mature fun and that ain’t pun
And before these weak callers of weak solar get their guns
I’d just bounce like my done and dusted dons

Political Menstruation; no Tampons.

Godson, Neofloetry and Graciano
(Late Nights and Early Mornings Writing Exercise: 8th Sept, 2014.)



I dodged a bullet two weeks ago In that shopping mall
A bullet, caramel skinned; moisturized
That almost left a sister’s chest
Spurting red spots everywhere

I dodged this fine looking bullet
That went three sixty degrees
Around my waistline, I sang praises,
I almost rocked that Mic
Check check

I dodged a bullet…
Yes! I dodged a fine one
Six feet two inches; got me high
Fine, sweet smelling cologne, I took a whiff
Six packs front layered;
I scrolled through, page after page
In my fantasy
Oh my!

I dodged it sister; yes I dodged that bullet in hours
It challenged my hormones
They militated against my sense of reasoning
I gave a silent scream for help
Leaving my eyes coated in surprise
My hands, still, is this my prize, a bullet?

That bullet almost shot through me
Between Africa and Jamaica
It’s warmth sent me down that sofa
Attention! my twin babies saluted

That voice, those eyes
A combination of soul and jazz soothing the soul
Soft and inviting, tempting;
Sent shivers down my spine
They slung a leash around me
But I had to dodge that bullet
On the last five days before New Year’s Eve




Ray of light
Yah, we need insight
Ray of light
We need not be in fright
Ray of light
The enemy must be in flight

The sun is stronger
The moon weaker
Turn the sky crimson
So they’ll be a reason
Let the brain wave its clear flag
So common sense won’t be a drag

Ray of light
Yah, we need insight
Ray of light
We need not be in fright
Ray of light
The enemy must be in flight