“I won’t turn back even at the point of death”
The words escaping between my breath.
I was selling my soul to the devil,
Tell me what is of greater evil.
Sipping from a calabash full of blood
The whole of this night is nothing but odd.
Amidst strong men with bloodshot eyes
Cross their path and someone dies.
But they have become family now
Bonded by blood never to bow.
And as I gyrate round this large fire
I am whipped with canes of barbed wire.
Plenty had ran; some had broken joints;
Two others died at some critical points
But the secrets of the madman
Are known only by the madman.
And our secrets thus,
Are known only by us.
Now we’re ghosts; not men.
Conquering from island to island; Northmen.
For this night of fire I won’t forget;
I am bonded by men in black beret .