Five set out to ride again
When asked where our home lies, we answer nowhere
We answer everywhere
Others have journeyed by our side yet they ride no longer
These poor souls lie in unmarked graves leaving no legacy
But it is the fate that they choose
Cold bodies have nothing left to lose
Those who remain stand to lose much more
Continued onward to foreign lands
Sometimes we go hungry. Sometimes we become stranded
Forever we remain filthy and poor
Who would want this. We need this
How shall we be remembered
If remembered at all
I'd rather die with my axe in my hand than go to my grave as less of a man