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I said to the Mountains, tell me the story of the Sheepdog. But would it be Honorable for me to inquire about the Black bull?

The boisterous Animal that took away the Inspiration of the Sheepdog? The story is foretold that the Kettle shall never call the pot; black. 

A vision is given by the visionary. He alone knows the riddles behind every detail. But like a butterfly, will he ever fly? Or will he remain stagnant in his own environment?

As the time of the kings, when the morning sun and dew have nourished The plantations. When man stood in the Mirror of greatness. 

A time when the strange word "slave Trade" was beneath the earth; came the Imperialist. How then did we came into Such dismay? 

Far now, out of our country to serve a Foreigner; a black Bull with crooked Horns. For your destiny is far lost and Your brow will sweat blood.

Thread the corn field and the sugary plant; follow the dreams of the black Bull. Your longing will only be quenched by the bull whip of the black Bull,

Because you dedicated your days to the Idols. Forsaken the One who flew you Out from the House of Bondage, and Placed you in his plantations to grow like the Cedar of Lebanon.

But words will not fail me, if I Mentioned not the sheepdog and the Black Bull. I will not say goodnight until The Drummer sleeps.

A time for mourning, and a time for Oppression, but all is well when the Story is told. I'll not say goodnight until The drummer Sleeps.

Goodnight, the drummer can now sleep, But for how long? When the sheepdog's Lack of conspicuous vision is now his Greatest opposition. 

The sign of the time is coming for him to Regain his rightful position. But won't it Be such a hyperbole if I call not such Claim to attention.

Can I tell the story of the greatest Adventure and leave out the black Bull? 
As surreal it may sound, with an empty Space of words,mystery and mythology And all? 

The real world is that the tribute will go To the black Bull. He has stolen the Remembrance of the sheepdog.
All the meaningful things and conquest.

All left is now a dream, a song.
Like the nostalgia of the Spacemen, who reached the moon but lost their space ship. A lost dream.
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