Where does it come from?
This human instinct
To try, when hope is gone.
To fight, long after the battle is lost.
They depend on me
For strengh
For shelter from the world
For echos of pasts and futures
Yet fail to understand
There is no shelter from the coming storm
No Shinning Host to ride against the darkness
My strength comes from mortal blood
My proffered comfort from blackened wings
Despair my constant companion
For the devil will take the hindmost
He already has me.
