Their differences force their stolen organs,
As their kind cut their limbs,
Thinking that they hold abundance,
What prized possession is luck?
Rather than pray and work hard,
Their culture bans that anyone lives the same,
So, they cut and cut,
Shango's lightning ignites the storms.
The rare colored limbs are worth thousands,
The black market sells its pale body parts,
While they lay, unlucky,
As the needs expense a market's good luck.
A booming business indeed,
What magical powers they carry,
But they no longer function,
Even Achaman can no longer sweep the butchered legs.
The paler, the better,
Their skin doesn't make them invisible,
As their parts are susceptible;
Ekwensu refuses the bargains.
They slither because their stomachs cause friction,
As their healed nubs hold no limbs.
They cannot live normally,
As the amputated arm fixes someone's love affair,
Now, who will love what's been breached,
And hunted unfairly?
Ogoun must prevent the scavenging,
As the albino nubs are sallow,
Since the majority hunt them,
And the witch doctors' use black magic against them.
The industry has caused a misfortune,
No longer will Ikenga enable the legends.
The pearly parts cause the hurricanes,
Because who will watch them?
What is taken as good luck,
Is now used against the dusk.
The black is shadowy,
While the white no longer grants luck.
The market crashes,
And the limbs are gone,
But the poachers keep hunting,
As the light complexion hisses,
Olokun causes smoky floods.
Their differences force their stolen organs,
As their kind cut their limbs,
No longer are they working and helping the dusk.