The sunrise above them
As they make their way
In the early morning light
No backward glance
Frightened of tomorrow
On a lonely road
Shrouded in misted rain
The vanquished race
 [bad word] 
They felt the touch of loneliness
They felt the dread of fear
And found the path of wisdom
Along the trail of tears

So many ways of falling
thousand barefoot tribes
Who [bad word] promises
No resting place
March into the wilderness
Time their fate decides
Leaving behind them
Treasures and gold
 [bad word] 

The sun sets before them
In another land
Withered in spirit
The [bad word] ends
 [bad word] 2x)