We are the Freedom Fighters

Bia nga, umuaka.
Listen to me, and listen well,
to times God saw,
before you came.
God’s own tears were,
felt all day.

The air so thick,
it could be sliced in half,
take a piece, put it in
your mouth, taste
despair, within our nation.
All of us, could taste it there.

Smell flesh burning and 
souls destroying. Shrieks 
and wails, carry the fallen.
Men and women, so strong
together, pick up sticks, and 
guard their huts. Hear their

prayers to Almighty Chukwu,
to give them strength, for 
that day. Hear their songs, fill 
the air so boldly, for 
their righteous land,
they’ll defend.

IPOB is who we are.
Biafra or death,
is what we say.
All hail Biafra, to the very end.
Anyi bu nnwere
onwe nke Biafra.

Wait right here, my 
northern friend, all we 
want is no more fear, 
just one day, for our kids 
to be safe, just one more 
day, to build our lives.

All we pray for, is food 
in our bellies, biko, I beg, 
leave us our land.
Our children’s cries
will surely kill us, cries
of hunger, and poverty 

haunts.
Pleading words, fell
in the gutter, bombs of
anger was bestowed 
on us. We searched for
armour to help 

protect us. Our eyes 
fell on, Biafran souls.
Our songs of freedom
was all we had. Our 
hearts of gold, the Lord
will protect. He heard

our prayers from high above
us, He filled our hands 
with rifle sticks. We fought 
our foe, who came against
us. We fought our foe, with 
Biafran spirit.

Before we knew it, they
came to our village. Who knew,
they would end up there. 
Without a fleeting thought of
compassion, the food we ate,
they stopped it there.

With open eyes and empty
stomachs, we searched and 
searched, to no avail. Cries of 
hunger was surely heard
there, but our northern 
neighbours, just looked away.

With sorrowed hearts we 
came to realise, we couldn’t 
go on, as we were. Our fallen 
family were just too many, far 
too many, at last count. One 
million, of our beloved 

children, will no longer play, 
on God’s green earth.
Our sticks are retired, yes 
my dear, but Biafra remains,
alive this day. So, wipe your 
tears upon your face, 

Biafra will, be restored one 
day. To the fallen, I’ll say to 
you: “anyi agaghi echefu gi!”