A Tribal Ritual

No more, the dance to the beat of the drums

Faith has led us to the beastly heat of tribal ritual

Where the sun beams down upon our face

Starvation and sacrifice before our grace

In the burning flames of misery and woe

We chant to the spirits, the sun, earth, native waters below

Sing to the wind, cry to the sky, give up the blood

To the weak and the weary, let them be strong

As the rattle snake shakes, his forked tongue lashes out

Be near the spear, may the blade sharpen with pain

Painted face of war, appear unto the mountain

And drive out all who have rotted away, bones, and remains

Let them bleed the shame of our victory, a tribal ritual

Where we find peace in our sulking remains, as the sun fades

The glorious colors of a rainbow will appear, for us to follow

A tribal ritual, now showers be wetting, as we are replenished from the rain