Here I lie Among the rot, and the decay The ashes and remains of an old life My mind seems to stay Though my body is dead and gone, I ask you now this simple question Will I forever linger on?
"It's so foggy out here. Ah well, at least the ocean is clea-- Is that... an iceberg?"
But there will come a time You'll see, with no more tears And love will not break your heart But dismiss your fears Get over your hill and see What you find there With grace in your heart And flowers in your hair
Here I lie Among the rot, and the decay The ashes and remains of an old life My mind seems to stay Though my body is dead and gone, I ask you now this simple question Will I forever linger on?
Here I lie Among the rot, and the decay The ashes and remains of an old life My mind seems to stay Though my body is dead and gone, I ask you now this simple question Will I forever linger on?
" I swear to god if I see another arrow to the knee joke...... "
Here I lie Among the rot, and the decay The ashes and remains of an old life My mind seems to stay Though my body is dead and gone, I ask you now this simple question Will I forever linger on?
My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm.They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate.When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me.I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it. I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.
My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presencethat they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on,never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.
My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm.They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate.When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me.I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it. I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.
My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presencethat they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on,never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.