Known Unknown

I no longer care. I don't care  For all the things you do. I don't  want a part in them, Leave me be.

Maybe tomorrow I LL wake up and there will be nothing left Nothing left of what used to belong to me And then I ll sit back to think of where and how Where it all went wrong and how I missed it How I missed the signs right underneath my nose

Aanwo Bóyá yíó dọmo At least that was what they said They didn't bank on me lasting this long But they sure knew I would leave They thought it would be sooner Still, they waited so long for my demise

Àgunlá They run towards me like an army of the dead. Standing there alone, with no weapons to defend my already defeated spirits It looks like they will stop, it looks like they wouldn't,  still I stand.

Red taillights, green vegetation Dark skies, windy nights Winding roads, bumpy rides Welcome signs, goodbye signs Loud music, racing vehicles "Broken" waists, stiff backs Yet we March on.

Let us pray Let us open our hands and hearts Let us connect our invisible umbilical cords Back to the source that birth our beings Let us latch on to the genesis of our  walk

I have lost it I have lost my sight I have lost it I no longer see I have lost it I have lost sight of the light I can't see it but it surrounds me In my hole, there is a lot of it Blinded by it, yet it's all around me I no longer see the light

Erin Kárelé o wá jọba Ẹ ma jábó Èyin tín gbé ọrí àga gíga tẹ eni kúkúrú mólè A ti mò yín Èyin ògbènù òkùnkùn tafà sínù ìmólè Kò sí àyè fúnnyín Èyin ẹni ibi tín wọso funfun gba èjẹ̀ lára omo owó Owó á tèyín Èyin tín gba ọ̀mìnira lówó alágbára Isé yín á bàjé Èyin tín fúni ní omi ìnira mu torí àtije yìn.

Ìràpadà The stones we throw at our own glass houses, the cracks we install in our fortresses. The mends we force from the fear of extinction, the worse the damage when we attempt correction.

Olodumare Olodumare Olodumare ooo, The only being whose names are more than his worshipers put together, deliver us from the confusion of Onileorita, the entity who is no man's friend, yet no being's enemy. Lakaaye Osinmole, the god whose yard is lined with barrels of water yet showers with blood, I beseech you, shower not with our blood and protect us from the evil of the road, strenghten our hoes and cutlasses so that our heaps of yam may hold.