It seemed a leap year ago, when thee dreams were lifted up above the edifies and smashed down faster than they got there, the dreams of nations crushed, piece by piece they fell, from the groupies to the sixteenth, to the eights, piece by piece they broke the hearts made of clay and dust into tiny shattered fragments of dust, in awe and disbelief, the tension filled the air as faith cross barred fate right after the hand of the devil sealed our fate.
yes our fate, We woke up desolate as the hand of the devil stole the show in the goal, many prayed and many wandered the streets of Brazil in search of charms and ribbons to tie the fate of the Black continent in the last four, set to steal a page in the history books of the World Cup the black stars failed to shine at night and then we woke up with hopes to dream again at Russia.
Russia, Russia, Russia, the designers did their job, the government did their jobs, the fans have the full capacity to do their jobs, leaving just one job for the coaches and players, WIN WIN WIN WIN WIN, or so we thought, but after 4 days we have LOST LOST LOST LOST , yes history repeats our fate.
Yes our fate, is not to repeat but to rewrite, the black continent rewrites the history of the world cup in 30 days is the headline, there is hope in the Hand of God, to triumph over the Hand of the Devil, and alas we shall LIVE our dreams UP to the fullest.
