Much ado about something
Yielding is not an exit,
Running is no escape,
Escape is no alternative.
We stand
We fight
In our haggard lines,
We draw swords,
We cock guns and ready our arrows
Backs bent in anticipation
Knees set to charge
No one is really ready.
Time goes by,
She takes note of us and Stops
Time has stopped!
The wind blows through
We feel him pat our backs.
He leaves like he never stopped
The sun stares down at us
He smiles,bearing harder upon us
For a moment he sees us no more
Rain blots out his rays
Hard,deadly bullets and arrows fly
We see them like they be rain
A cry sweeps through our lines
So faint but ever so loud
Pain sears along my arm
It is the Battle cry.
Written by: Abdulsalam Abdul