Look upon the very land we sit upon
As it spins, it heaves in many ways
The Wanderer wakes with the dawn
Watching an inferno begin to blaze
Wanderer's step out of the bounds
That tie mortal men to the coil
Even if being chased by fire-laden hounds
That blood will never soil
The ground is the only respite from flame
A Wanderer digs deep to find thine being
When found, there is no shame
When lost, all others would be fleeing
A wanderer never sits still for long, for why should he?
Sulphur-backed bitches could never look within thee.
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