Charlie Maison Ole Nkurrunah

Every time we cast the ballot With the guise of getting ourselves a bailout From the cooking pot that we so honourably fry ourselves in We end up jumping into the fire Head first with our tinted goggles on And end up drowning in the murky waters of self-condemnation  With the fear in us to change our systems The inability to reason with our minds with the future at heart We get to to think with our stomachs and get to fill our dusty wallets for a minute Every five years they come back with bags of goodies and plastic smiles Like Santa on a sombre Christmas Eve Carrying with them sagging bags of money  The same money they stole direct from our hands Through hiking fuel prices and increasing their salaries tenfold All because we rever the status quo And cannot accommodate a little change We prefer being in the same dirt-pool  Than moving on to a swamp we have not seen Or else a mountain of opportunity  What if we just abandoned this political paranoia Left that old ric...