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Africa Will Not Bow 1 by Master AU

SongGPT
Africa Will Not Bow 1 by Master AU  - Satirical, Inspirational,both vocals music cover art

Africa Will Not Bow 1

Satirical, Inspirational,both vocals

0:003:28
Lyrics
Description
Oh hail the peacemakers in powder-blue hats,
With briefcase sermons and diplomacy chats.
They fly in with jargon, on rescue they ride,
While Africa bleeds — oh, how they bide.
They shouted, “Gaddafi must go! He’s a threat!”
Then rained down NATO — a freedom duet.
Libya now burns, in chaos it lies,
But oil ships still sail — what a clever disguise!
Look at the EU, grinning with glee,
As they mine Congolese cobalt with giddy esprit.
They sip on their ethics in Geneva’s fine halls,
While blood-soaked diamonds drip down from their walls.
The ICC roars like a lion well-fed,
But only when Africans are dragged from their beds.
Presidents tried with shame in the court,
While drones from the West call it “smart support.”
Oh Uncle Sam, your justice is blind,
You see only war crimes of a darker kind.
When Gaza cries and the innocents fall,
You veto the truth — your ethics appall.
“Human rights!” they chant with grandeur in air,
As sanctions like arrows slice African air.
Yet when bombs rain down on Palestinian bread,
They argue it’s just "defensive dread."
Now shift your gaze to sweet Salone's shore,
Where ballots once sang — but sing no more.
Where soldiers now rule in silence and fear,
While the West sends grants and politely cheers.
They funded the polls, then shrugged at the theft,
When rights were erased and the people were left.
Democracy drowned in a donor-fed bowl,
As civil rights choked on the “strategy goal.”
Elections rigged — “Let’s focus on peace.”
Shootings ignored — “But violence must cease.”
They sip on statements at fancy press rounds,
While youths lie flat on blood-soaked grounds.
But look to the north — a fire breaks free,
In the heart of Faso, where lions still see.
Ibrahim Traoré, bold and unshaken,
Tears off the mask of the West forsaken.
He says “Africa first!” and throws out the rest,
“We own our land — we’ll decide what is best.”
No longer the pawn in the chess game of greed,
Burkina rises on sovereign seed.
They call him a rebel, a danger, a brat —
But fear the bold truth beneath his combat hat.
For when one stands, others begin,
And Africa’s silence starts to wear thin.
So tell me, dear leaders with Nobel Peace Prizes,
How come justice only fits certain sizes?
Why does the gavel only strike skin tinted brown,
While white warships smile in victory crown?
Yes, we see you in your tailored concern,
Preaching peace while the world seems to burn.
But Africa’s rising, our eyes now perceive,
Your gospel of freedom, we no longer believe.
From the rubble and ashes, a new voice will ring,
For justice has wings, and truth is our king.
So listen here closely, for the tides turn anew,
A world that is fair must include me and you.
We'll shatter the silence — the gavel will swing,
To echo the hope that true freedom brings.
So gavel your judgments, keep your gun by your side,
Africa's no longer your puppet — we rise with pride.
“This isn’t just poetry — this is prophecy.
From Salone to Faso, the echo is loud:
Africa will not b