Ifekoya Toluwanimie

I don’t know about tomorrow
I don’t what it holds
Neither do I know what it’ll throw.
Nor if I’ll be in the fold
Will I be at the front row?

Or miss and be told?
What about the sorrows?
and all of the golds?
Out in all the mysteries and distant new tomorrow
Will I be old?

I don’t even know
No one knows which way the wind will blow
Left but here, hanging in the cold
Hey! But I know who holds tomorrow
He is the ancient of days, same as of old

If I’ll only follow
My hand He will hold
Guaranteed will be my tomorrow
Even till am old


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