The crocodiles speak
The truth hardly surfaces
They will tail it to their needs
The way they want to benefits
Even corruption they will say good
As long as they don't get caught
They want to make the inroads
Of the seat of power out of the swamp
But the crocodiles can't cut it
They can't stand strong on their legs
They have to crawl like they do
In the swampy land they belong
The crocodiles speak
The nation will turn weak
But they are good hunters around
With nets and spears to cut them down
So there is still hope
The crocodiles will turn weak
As the meat will be cut off
The good hunters will wait in silence
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