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A Message
River of blood flows down the hills,
Of a sleeping warrior's dwell.
The warriors of the hills are chained,
by the blood of Christ or else!.
Thy punctured my brethren skin,
with thy brass and leads, so called.
Thy forced tears on the warrior's eyes,
As each falls down to dust.
Thou had disturbed the sleeping warrior,
As sure! He shalt rose to hunt for the foe.
Thy guns are no match,
for His soul is immortal.
His hunger stops,
when He taste thy blood.
Thy shalt not be forgiven,
nor shalt be forgotten.
I stood still in awe,
to warn thine of the warrior's March.
Prepare thy black flag,
For thy 've distrubed the warrior's sleep.
As rivers of blood flows,
down the Hills of warriors.
© Tekasangba walling
Of a sleeping warrior's dwell.
The warriors of the hills are chained,
by the blood of Christ or else!.
Thy punctured my brethren skin,
with thy brass and leads, so called.
Thy forced tears on the warrior's eyes,
As each falls down to dust.
Thou had disturbed the sleeping warrior,
As sure! He shalt rose to hunt for the foe.
Thy guns are no match,
for His soul is immortal.
His hunger stops,
when He taste thy blood.
Thy shalt not be forgiven,
nor shalt be forgotten.
I stood still in awe,
to warn thine of the warrior's March.
Prepare thy black flag,
For thy 've distrubed the warrior's sleep.
As rivers of blood flows,
down the Hills of warriors.
© Tekasangba walling
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