What can walk upon a path
entwined by serpents' blood--
if every step leads to the wrath
of fever, to the mud
And every step is like to be
our last upon this earth?
Their fangs sink in, set scarlet free
and tear us from our worth.
What can walk upon a path
ensnared by poisoned thorns?
If we should trip, know but a scratch
will bleed us of our form.
If we should fail, no other hands
can take the flag again.
If we should fail, immortal stands
will close our corpses in.
What can walk upon a path
where no one's ever gone--
if every step is yet one past
what we have ever done
And each and every step we take
is more than we can go?
What of the day our bodies break,
and weary wait a soul?
Know we walk upon a road
that leads to shadows black
and face the fell, corrupted mode
that drags us from the track
If it is true that you remain,
I will not turn away
Until we've cleansed this place of pain
and stepped into the day. |