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General Duke

Somalia my pain...an old poem..

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All are concerned with measuring fame

While the poor are consoled by pain

 

My land and my lost name

For centuries my people haven’t gained

The masses move in hordes insane

 

A few words to the brave

We will get out of this hole this cave

 

We must fight in ways they can’t understand

Because this man is but a man

 

Somalia stirs my heart

It’s my passion my poison my true pain

You have to be a nomad to comprehend

That my land of warriors produces true friends

 

None are as proud or as blind

None smarter with such twisted minds

Each and everyone of them a sultan

Each a king to his clan

 

But Somalia you must change

You must see the value of compromise

You must respect and listen to the wise

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