Consequences don’t matter,
The vim and vigour of killing their own
Makes them cheerful,
Cheerful of seeing blood,
I am their enemy,
Though they pretend not to see.

I provoke while it’s nice,
I provoked the bees
To sting each other
So that I can take their honey.
That is who I am!

Their beautiful Africa
Is no longer green,
But bloody red,
It’s no longer peaceful,
But warful.
Before I get what I want,
Their peace is a mystery.

They know who I am,
The milk and honey I promised,
Made them ignorant,
Made them forget they are family.

Because of me,
Their African deserts have rivers,
Yes, rivers of blood,
Their fields remain green,
Only because those who couldn’t survive
Turned into fertilizers.
I am surely a destroyer.