The center cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed, until you let the center go
Our ties and straps ripped asunder
by mad men who would rather shred the deck of 52s than fold.
The whole air smells like jet fuel, like a gas station aflame
black billowy smoke interlaced with burning books
What have you done in Allah’s name?!
It looks like porn. Like Salo.
And at the center of it all, there’s you.
Crown prince of an army of unholy Van Goghs painting death across the land
The other day, surfing Channels, I saw a tank patrolling, on actual Nigerian streets
like that new Call of Duty with Kevin Spacey
How apt, our House of cards falls down, cue the music
“Allah Ahkbar! Allah Akhbar!”
I agree there’s only one God, but to whom does he speak? not you.
They say the voice of the people is the voice of God
I say you’re mad, we always knew.
There’s only one God and Mohammed is His Prophet
There’s only one Savior, and it’s not the President
So sick, heart broke, go call the Specialist.
So cold, so fucking cold, Let the center go.
Your very presence is a lese-majeste
and you know this
Bornu burns, Kano caved in, and what, you hog the police??
This anarchy is the future you want, isn’t it?
This movie is in the first ten minutes, and you love it?
Sit back and watch it to the end then, to you be the glory.
It’ll be your blood at the finish line, you end the story.
We know how it goes, we’ve read your history
Your circle of haruspic sycophants will chant your name
in the end they’ll divine your entrails.
Even in Cato’s day the plot was clear.
Even the gone greats know the score from the grave.
Heads, you lose. Tails, you lose.
There’s really no win for you, you might as well go.