The drum begins, coughing like a choking child,
Humming, producing sounds, stretching their souls further,
"gba gba, gbo, gbo", legs talking, calling forth the wild,
Hearts jumping in surrender, stained teeth, engulfing fervour,
Enjoying paralyzing rhythms, seducing, yet wild,
It's an era of darkness, vainglories and murder,
Yet they dance, washing off their legacy in its trickles

The dance begins, masking their thoughts and actions,
While they grope about, in love and concern for the new age,
"Up, left, right", breaths communing with motion,
As the beats bathe with sweats pouring from the drum's rage,
Faster, their steps calling the earth's attention,
Itching, cursing, making mockery of their father's adage.

They dance proudly, in styles which anger the leaves and trees,
Many being chewed upon, strangled by the stench of darkness,
I think of dancing too, my energy buzzing like healthy bees,
But my brain walks far behind me, away from this madness.