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Passage to Peasant Of SortsThe forest of all illusions.
The guardian waits and watches, fighting with his own delusions.
His own antidote, doesn't cleanse his mind.
Always look in the green meadow.
From there, maybe he can seen.
So quick ,so nimble.
His bow as quick as his wits.
Even as he fights with his own sickness.
Still he sees, the good in you all.
Noble and DarkTake a seat and let me tell you a story.
From dusk to dawn.
A man who's lost it all can be heard.
All alone, all alone.
Take a seat and let me tell you about the sorrows of a bard.