The old man approached the river His gray head hanging low His frail bones, tired and weakened Stepped beyond the shore into the cold
And he knew there is no hope for redemption No mercy would fall upon his wretched head A wicked soul, who did no long to see the sunrise With sullen heart, he cursed the churning waves around him
Swept into the dark, too late to return, he breathed in From the emptiness, fear rose up in his throat And then he knew
No more time, no more breath No more hope, no more dawn Only void
