Before the clock docks like a ship
let the horn be blown so we won’t drip.
with my head singing in soprano,
I feel the time is no more/maybe liberation will be tomorrow.
If I had the courage
To move with both legs, taking that bold step,
in the world stage/like a sparrow quick flight,
I would be a pan-African,
To bring forth the message of justice!
by freeing my home from embodiment,
whether incarnation or predestination.
Today shall be Liberation.
There she goes!! with her sweet scent and bushy hair laid in cornrows.
across the Futa Jalon, down to mount Cameroon, I
shall be free of passage and be not termed a foreign national,
while I still dwell within the heart of the oil well/foaming with spits of equality,
therein tribalism is not my identity.
Today shall be Liberation/from those rusty chains in which,
like the skies covered by dark clouds,
I form the fist of alutaaa! Freedom is not free/Today shall be Liberation.