When the dark clouds start to dance.
And Umuoke begins to purify its sands of blood.
I will come to you by chance.
Nether the thatched huts built with mud.
An omen we await, a sign, a flare.
As the thunder calls out our names.
Neighbour after neighbour, heir by heir.
Death, it’s victory will claim.
You will avenge the fallen.
And rid our streets and hearts of the grime.
Jolts of light to break the morning.
Invading space and time.