Through the end of all the roads,
through the vines of the Forest of the Dark Folks,
through the Desert of the Crying Souls,
and trhough the City of the Lost,
there goes the warrior, seeking his last sin.
Between his ears, a rusty silver elm is placed,
as old, used and smashed armor covers his chest,
long iron boots weight his legs.
And there goes the warrior, seeking his last quest.
He defeated the strong, and leaded the weak.
He fought in formations, and in crews.
He left the nothing he had to lose, to the nothing that this life would pick.
And there goes the warrior, seeking his last fight.
He's got no followers, and no companies.
He goes alone, in through the way that was mean.
He used to have lovers, but now they are far, far away. And he is still alone.
And there goes the warrior, counting his last breaths.
The sword he drove through the battles, set in his waist.
The sword which defeated the evil, and were wielded in a strong fist.
Silenceful like an eagle in the skies, the sword of the warrior is an omen of death.
And there goes the warrior, taking his last steps.
Now that all he hear is silence,
now that everything he see is the horizon,
the warrior moves towards his way.
And there goes the warrior, walking while he pray.
The warrior is tired,
and not wishing to carry on,
but his body is moving on it's own.
And there goes the warrior, because he knows he have to go on.
Maybe he'll never make it there,
maybe he'll fall on the ground
of this forgotten road, but his determination, to shrink, doesn't dare.
And there goes the warrior, because his destiny is alredy bound.
Wars are coming,
and wars will go,
but the warrior will not firget his sin.
Because there goes the warrior, on his journey through the world.
Sorry for the things he didn't to do,
and sorry for the thing that he did,
the warrior is another disturbed soul.
And the warrior goes, only because he wants to be set free.