Gun are the days
Gun are the days
When time was straight like Orere
When living was a smoothbore barrel of a shotgun.
Gun are the days
when love was sweet with low sugar.
When Rats with their high-pitched squeaks
Squeal like Rats.
Gun are the days
When to love means to love what the love loves.
When birds sing and trill like birds
Gun are the days
When love was simple
When human produce prosodies of meaning.
Aare Onigedu
Kindly critique, eminent scholars.
Sent from my iPhone
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