Like horse I prance the galaxy
Combing for my queen bee
Hands laid on numbered dolls
All seems to be, but not the type
Oh God!, ages past
Weak and weary, dark and deary
Maternal forbear summons for gripping
Ripe the days I be progenitor
To regenerate for granny
Alone in my desert world
What do I do, where do I start
Entangled with generous pity
I shall await for God to give the time
Until I get my MISS RIGHT.
Composed by Grace Enitan