When the rain drops
Touch down
When the warriors' feet
Dance
When the last war cries fade
I know then that
Fate has spoken
and the dirges must be rehearsed.
The war of hearts,
of bounty and of pride
The price we must bear.
Of bodies to be counted
Of curses to be pronounced
Of homes to be broken...
and
The riders charged on
Broken bodies and mangled spirits.
Blood-soaked dust of Foutadjalon,
souls of a hungry men fought for the light of day.
And when the rays of the sun broke forth,
Out of the rubble, a bloodied warrior walked away,
Alone from the Silent Valley,
To tell a tale...a tale of many dirges
