Urban Song

They never sang your praises, All your efforts will never be celebrated, While at it some will  quote your phrases, in your funerals your names shall be cremated, ashes to ashes and that is how it ended, But now here I stand, Strong with the pen in my hand Celebrating those of my kind, The great ones fallen for some reason, It’s time to chant for a different set of heroes, The lyrical pros like E-sir, The great singers like Angela, The mother nature of our time Wangare, And the others who went in this era....

I finally have a daughter, She was conceived and born off my Ex lovers, For I failed to choose the real mother, for whoever was nice I let em have my daughter, whoever came first love spread at sight, when I come to think of it we are not in good terms with the mothers, These thoughts make me believe that my daughter shall not experience the love of her father, because I shall be married off to another,  woman who never knew about my daughter,   she be ready to erase my pain of the loss, but promised to give me another, as long as I won’t let her know about my daughter, even though situations force us not to be together, my daughter flows in my blood, she is in my thoughts contemplating her in my dreams and wish she was born at another time, that time I shall make right choices, a time when I will be married to her mother,  so she grows knowing her real father, a time when I come home, she be waiting for me at the door, smiling to her hero, a time when she be the only woman in my life,