The sky above is my helmet, adorning my head as a crown.
This firmament moves from night to foggy as the sun rises.
Just as this son's hair will shift from dark to grey.
It rains as I reign, and those droplets are sweat off my brow.
The birds that soar above are the diamonds for this headdress.
The thunder overhead sounds like thoughts, that rage in the waning hours.
But the rainbow that follows is the banner of our fathers.
Who marched to war under their colors, just as we fight under colors today.
Now we do not battle so much under the red, white and blue,
But under the red versus the blue versus the white.
The blood of Africa sprints across my veins and into my heart.
My soul is fashioned from the breastplates of those ancient warriors.
Mother Nature knew I had to grow up strong for battle.
So she bestowed on her son that armor of times past to fight
But she never thought that I would need more than armor for this war.