White solid ground he walks on
Deep inside the woods
Blue skies, lead his path
But still a feeling so lone
Leaving a trail of blood and hope
Stones marked with faith
Nothing ever will grow where
where he has ever laid
Burning hearts, holding hollow hands
Spirits haunt his days
A dip in the sea, or a place to sleep
a boat of ice his base
Far across ocean as his eyes gaze,
a thought of what was, and smiles of fame
like grass on water, He grows deep and still
waiting for the forest to burn, waiting for the sun
