Dar es Salaam, Feb. 1 -- 2. Blood shed for papers, tears dropped like rain,

What can we do? They still hold the reign.

A child runs for them, teens chase the prize,

Papers, we call them money, yet truth never lies.

3. Friendships end and begin for these sheets,

Enemies rise, or bow in defeat.

Count and count, they make us silent, or loud,

Papers that make us humble, or proud.

4. Sons and daughters defy their own kin,

For papers, they think they can win.

What has the world become in this chase?

Papers define it, but at what cost, in what space?

5. Has it bought peace, or sparked bitter fights?

Has it led to harmony or endless nights?

Papers, just papers, we call them money,

But can they bring joy, or only leave us hungry?

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