From the mouth of sanctified soothsayers
From the eyes of the ever-mourning spectral soldiers
From the ears of the scavengers, who roams the wast wilds
Across the grey mountains in the west
Past the rust-clad valleys of the south
Over the snow-covered tundras of the north
To the weeping forests in the east
No-one seems to care
No-one seems to mind
A burden to one, a relief for another
“True effort will always make things easy”
Is that so?
Nothing easy, is worth achieving
And who would ever put true effort into the worthless?
-No man would, and no man ever will-