Along the foggy path I made my way
With no set course laid out within my mind
But fleeing dreary days I left behind,
And dreary lands in which I dared not stay.

At night, I stopped; beside the road I lay,
With morning's light awakening to find
Myself back home, or somewhere like in kind.
I heard the hounds of death begin to bay.

Those dreary days, it then did seem to me,
Were buried splinter-like inside my chest.
No matter where I stopped to take my rest,
They'd blight the earth; they'd poison sky and sea.
I shook my head to banish all despair:
I'll find another land - one far more fair!