The oldest thing of man
Would be the words...

How many days
Must I travel through this mist...

A sad and hungry cry
Doth fills my tainted ears...

How I wish,
I could tell you what I feel...

Like the swaying of the trees
you whisper in my ear...

An ancient tune
A pounding beat...

Running from the growing darkness
Racing against all odds...

The count down has begun
Your breathing comes faster...

Lost far away
Where no one can find me...

As the world passes us by
And my eyes begin to cry...

Feathers of white
Float around me...

Layers of dust
The smell of must...