There is a forest on the land
where i will make a stand.
I will stride across the grass
Step on broken glass.
I’m not afraid of the road i tread
or where its mysteries have led.
I no longer have a heart to break
my soul is clearly filled with ache.
What do i have to fear now?
When, where? What, how?
The only thing i fear is death
where you can’t find life's breath.
I fear myself and death alone
in the beginning i should have known.
Now all i have is this land.
Where i will tread and make a stand.