Forsaken in the wooden sheets
the story may unfold
as in the founders will foretold
the word may quickly leek
was in the might
of darkest night
vowels came to dance
to form the echo of forgotten tale
that no one understands
Voices running stale
Pounding hearts might prevail
though as the sound gets dull
Parts of us will show no fear
to tell what needs to be said
As if it was a golden spear
Words are growing full
Fools who run for aid