Black tradition a breath of freshness a dance in the market square a song for the gods a union of the guardians a rhythm understood only by greatness a whisper from the lips of saints a word uttered by the dumb life in a dance daydreams turned into nightmares so we danced like angels our sacrifice prided its glory and we sang praises like gods with our hands we played the best of harps with our lips we played our flutes like never our hearts filled with a different vibe with celebration in the air we danced in an insane manner water droplet turned into rain and the gods washed us of our sins though the dark clouds grew even darker but the purest of our hearts shined so bright that it poured outwards total cleasing of our fathers land though the day comes to an end our virgins pride themselves warriors screamed their victory song children in celebration of the many blessings bestowed on them a reconciliation of gods and his people never forgetting the prize payed this is victory... This is our traditon the black tradition and total purity of our souls