The grey man walks the crooked path
Eyes pecked out, eaten by the vultures
Ears torn, hanging on his shoulders
Legs strong, leading forward
No doubt in his heart

The grey man walks the cunning path
Arms bleeding, blood streaming
Flesh grinning, always mocking
The skin carved with signs
Knowing the way is right

The grey man shuns the rambling pack
Bodies wanting, minds empty
Souls shut, filled with ambiguity
Forlorn and renounced
For them the way is closed

The grey rain whips the barren land
Washing away the path and the blood
Erasing the trail in his wake
Come the ashen dawn
The man is gone