When murmuring market becomes a slave to silence
Open your curtains and see them

The lonely crowd that trades shames
In the market of dusk

And walk in thousands on deserted lanes
They’re drenched beneath weeping clouds

And shiver in their rugged rags
The lonely crowd;

The friends to the silence of our streets
Who hold conferences under fallen bridges

Lying in dust to rest their bones
And satisfy their eyes with phantoms’ horror

Who parade their dreams
With the footprints of nightmare

The world moves forward,
And they follow her shadow

When it’s dawn, they move on with their days
Begging for alms in the market place

He who pours water before him
They say, will walk upon cold earth

So I beseech your conscience
Give to them your best

Written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

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