Fly the flag of freedom, of hope.
Fly it so high,
That it cannot be seen.
By nobody.
Nobody spare, the good,
Good people that hold it in
Clean, filthy hands.
The land of true hope,
Of true people.
And of traditional truth,
Must not fall in its own truth.
Truly denied.
Commercialisation, infiltration,
Gluttonisation, bloody organisation.
Fields of shiny, powdery gold,
Feed statues of gold.
Kenya dreams.
On its own.
It dreams to be understood by none.
NONE
Except those good, good people.
They need not an alphabet to feel.
They need not an alphabet to be.
They need none.
No more words,
As only 26 letters exist to form one.
