14/04/2026
Who will save us, oh Liberia,
Land of promise, land of pain,
Where voices cry in silent streets,
Yet answers never come again.
Three million spent on borrowed dreams,
A hospital for children’s cries,
Yet mothers still walk miles in tears,
With hopeless prayers beneath the skies.
Strangers stand upon our soil,
Boots that linger, months gone by,
While sons of the land ask quietly,
“Is this freedom or a lie?”
We trade our future for small talk,
Majoring in what should wait,
While hunger knocks on every door,
And justice comes too little, too late.
Bread and butter left to dust,
Promises lost in the air,
Leaders speak in polished words,
But the people drown in despair.
Oh Liberia, sweet broken home,
Where are we going from here?
Are we blind to the cracks beneath,
Or too consumed by fear?
Who will rise and stand for truth?
Who will heal this wounded land?
If not the people, if not now
Then who will take a stand?
Who will save us, oh Liberia…
Or must we save ourselves?
