Just one crazy moment while the dice are cast
He looks into the future and remembers
What is past
Wonders what he's doing on this battlefield
Shrugs to his shadow, impatient
Too proud yet to kneel
In his wake he leaves scorched earth
And work in vain
Smoke drifts up behind him - he is free again
Free to run before the onslaught of a deadly foe
Leaving nothing fit for pillage
Hardly leaving home
It's far too late to turn, unless it's to stone
Charging madly forward, tracks across the snow
Wind screams madness to him, ever on he goes
Leaving spoor to mark his passage
Trace his weary climb
Cross the moor and make the headland
Stumbling, wayward, blind
In the end his footprints extend as one single line
This latest exponent of heresy is goaded
Into an attack
Persuaded to charge at his enemy
Too late, he knows it is, too late now
To turn back
Too soon by far to falter
The past sits uneasily at his rear
He's walking right into the trap
Surrounded, but striving through will and fear
Ahead of him he knows there waits an ambuscade
But the dice slip through his fingers
And he's living from day to day
Carrying his world around upon his back
Leaving nothing behind but the tell-tale
Of his track
He will not be hostage, he will not be slave
No snare of past can trap him
Though the future may
Still he runs and burns behind him
In advanced retreat
Still his life remains unfettered
He denies defeat
It's far too late to turn, unless it's to stone
Leave the past to burn - at least
That's been his own
Scorched earth, that's all that's
Left when he's done
Holding nothing but beholden to no-one
Claiming nothing, out of no false pride
He survives
Snow tracks are all that's left to be seen
Of a man who entered the course of a dream
Claiming nothing but the life he's known
This, at least, has been his own
