| [00:47.36] |
Just one crazy moment while the dice are cast, |
| [00:51.12] |
He looks into the future and remembers what is past, |
| [00:55.27] |
Wonders what he's doing on this battlefield, |
| [00:58.67] |
Shrugs to his shadow, impatient, too proud yet to kneel. |
| [01:11.35] |
In his wake he leaves scorched earth and work in vain; |
| [01:15.46] |
Smoke drifts up behind him, he is free again, |
| [01:19.60] |
Free to run before the onslaught of a deadly foe, |
| [01:24.78] |
Leaving nothing fit for pillage, hardly leaving home. |
| [01:30.34] |
It's far too late to turn, unless it's to stone. |
| [01:40.78] |
Charging madly forward, tracks across the snow; |
| [01:45.18] |
Wind screams madness to him, ever on he goes, |
| [01:49.00] |
Leaving spoor to mark his passage, trace his weary climb. |
| [01:54.44] |
Cross the moor and make the headland |
| [01:57.02] |
Stumbling, wayward, blind. |
| [01:59.89] |
In the end his footprints extend as one single line. |
| [02:24.97] |
This latest exponent of heresy is goaded into an attack, |
| [02:34.93] |
Persuaded to charge at his enemy. |
| [02:39.08] |
Too late, he knows it is, |
| [02:42.94] |
Too late now to turn back, too soon by far to falter. |
| [02:50.68] |
The past sits uneasily at his rear, |
| [02:55.67] |
He's walking right into the trap, |
| [03:00.48] |
Surrounded, but striving through will and fear. |
| [03:05.26] |
Ahead of him he knows there waits an ambuscade |
| [03:09.53] |
But the dice slip through his fingers |
| [03:11.22] |
And he's living from day to day, |
| [03:13.56] |
Carrying his world around upon his back, |
| [03:16.62] |
Leaving nothing behind but the tell-tale of his track. |
| [05:13.35] |
He will not be hostage, he will not be slave, |
| [05:17.20] |
No snare of past can trap him, though the future may. |
| [05:21.49] |
Still he runs and burns behind him in advanced retreat; |
| [05:26.29] |
Still his life remains unfettered he denies defeat. |
| [05:44.15] |
It's far too late to turn, unless it's to stone. |
| [05:54.07] |
Leave the past to burn at least that's been his own. |
| [06:00.15] |
Scorched earth, that's all that's left when he's done; |
| [06:05.77] |
Holding nothing but beholden to no-one, |
| [06:11.49] |
Claiming nothing, out of no false pride, he survives. |
| [06:17.32] |
Snow tracks are all that's left to be seen |
| [06:23.98] |
Of a man who entered the course of a dream, |
| [06:30.36] |
Claiming nothing but the life he's known |
| [06:35.20] |
This, at least, has been his own. |
