At the dimming of the day,
unfriended, by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hands.
Wind-burned and swept,
his hair is silver-grey,
a blend of black and white
and every cast between
'til warrior and wasteland look the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains
stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day
unfriended by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hand.
Wind-burnt and swept his hair is silver-grey;
a mix of black and white, and every cast between,
till warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lake and mountain stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day,
unfriended, by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hands.
Wind-burned and swept,
his hair is silver-grey,
a blend of black and white
and every cast between
'til warrior and wasteland look the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains
stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day
unfriended by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hands.
Wind-burnt and swept his hair is silver-grey;
a mix of black and white, and every cast between,
till warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day,
unfriended, by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland
body crippled by the elements' cruel hands.
Wind-burned and swept his hair is silver-grey,
a blend of black and white and every cast between
'til warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day
unfriended by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hand.
Wind-burnt and swept his hair is silver-grey;
a mix of black and white, and every cast between,
till warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lakes and mountains stained that silver shade.
At the dimming of the day
unfriended by his fire he stands,
a warrior of the wasteland,
body crippled by the elements' cruel hand.
Wind-burnt and swept his hair is silver-grey;
a mix of black and white, and every cast between,
till warrior and wasteland are the same.
His gaze fastens on the landscape
in winter light's slow fade,
lake and mountain stained that silver shade.