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As youthful ignorance is consumed in our wake |
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The winds pounding against us gather strength |
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Darkness seems to descend |
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And many a frightened man feels his spirit desert him |
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As it dawns on man that his hope is unfounded |
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That his future is a great darkness |
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Fate calls his name; for he controls not his own prosperity or his own misery |
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The wind whispers unto me great stories of tragedy |
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The horizon becomes an enigma |
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Behold mist-laden landscapes |
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The journey ahead may be a perilous one |
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But there is no turning back |
