Running through the woods, the sky a lighter shade of black,
The leaves all seem blue, no clothes on my back.
Just a book in my hand, scrawled with blood and words of pain,
Sweat, soul and truth, now drenched in the rain.
A smile on my face, cold wind against my chest,
My life laid to waste like those of all the rest,
But you see I don't really care, for the pleasures of the world,
The touch of a woman and the words that talk of love.
I'm lost to the wild, to the wind, to the fire,
All I need is a vision of the truth to get me higher,
High above to the place where the lies are transpired,
A path so clear if I could I would crawl an extra mile up.
Die and be reborn to live it all and do the same,
For the truth is we were born to live a life of pain.