Rumours are circulating
Like cyclones in dry spell
No nimbostratus nor nimbocumulus no rain
Will you deny the reality?

Private affairs turn public
Denying its confidentiality
No secret above the roof
Will you prove innocent?

Wasn’t it your conspiracy?
When you had your hands in
No manna in this generation
Will you shamelessly oppose?

We hope you were genius
We hope you were indigenous
That patriotism has eaten your flesh
To console our abused souls.