Colonial squirms, masters from Europe

Self styled Lord of colonialism

Queen head of a fraudulent country called nigger area

Abysmally created without indigenous consent


Blood flows in your creation

And you are quiet O Britain

Your fraud in West Africa is a shelter of blood

And blood roams in the Savannah

Power and greed prompted your fraud

And you brought war to our peaceful villages

Donkey’s years after, death still knocks our doors


Your quietness speaks volume And the volume is loud enough to be heard

The shithole is yours

The hellhole is your deed

Lord Fredrick Lugard is the name on our lips each time we die

Britain, the name we call when we are maimed and killed

Does British citizens die this way?


Amalgamation was fraudulent

Maiming is our name

Bloodletting is our middle name

And death our surname

Britain is our accuser

And our bodies are in bits

Our blood is spelt in your name O Britain


Our heart is ripped

And the world observes a golden silence

Unending sorrow is what we get

When will happiness return to Biafra, where the sun rises?

Three million died from your weapons to keep the fraud O Britain

And yet death still hovers above us

It is only freedom, we crave or we die in the hollow of your silence

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