Leading ever on were bridges few
Held to ropes I saw were growing thin
So did I see from the rigid view
Was not so far from where I did begin
Wondering, “What am I running to?”
As much as if an answer could be had
Would there be a blade to run me through?
Or would I see a future silver clad?
Following what might have been a trail
In lands I know I never should have tread
Looking for a cure to all that ails
Or turn to gold this lacking world of lead
Leaving them behind, these bridges burned
Pretending that they’re worth the lessons learned