Everyone racing to freedom side

Freedom side is only down the street

A madman held the wheels

A lunatic pedalled the breaks

A party of the disturbed

Are they really disturbed?

On a normal day, they could be sane

Alcohol leading us still

We sweat and hustle

Commotion in our bellies

Off the window goes our saliva

I sweat, he sweats, and we all sweat

Squeezed up and tired

Our frustration we can’t help but show

This street is called Lagos

On a Monday evening

I sigh**