I may gladly dance this dance of death,
my fears and hopes sold me into slavery,
one nation of paupers bereft of bravery,
is enough to kindle my seething anger to birth.

I live in bowels of waste in our tainted creek,
a gold mine to my oppressing task master,
a festering wound on the side of my Papa,
hunger and thirst make me one with the meek.

No wonder I love these sounds of hate,
each day slinks by in promised emptiness,
my growling belly is filled with sadness,
if a redeemer comes, he may only be too late.

Ebony clouds like troops gather in the sky,
the thunder's din shatters my master's peace,
a flicker of lightening has robbed him of bliss,
my heart thumps to the drum beats and I sigh.

Why will I not dance this dance of death,
knowing the hidden fears of my lord,
who being mortal acts as my god,
my fevered dancing leads to new birth.

A youthful gladiator fighting for freedom,
my sweat, tears and blood wiil uphold my kingdom.