Degrading winds rip through the glen,
Over rivers of sorrow and misery.
From which, I'm forced to drink.
For the thirst of life.
And fear of death.

It poisons my blood,
Destroys me.
Berefts me of my soul.

Everlost, and empty.
But drink, I must.
From the poisoned stream.
For it's life, that I lust.

And thus forever forced into the lost dark.
To hide from my fear of death.

But, I never saw, the river had frozen my blood, long ago.
I'm already dead.

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