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