Song of Lamentation of the Last Man Standing on the Mountains

Gone are the pagan dreams But their sacrifice lives on, in memory First to stand, the last to fall, I’m like the echoes of the lone wolf’s howling call Or as a puissant tree, perhaps of great oak; I still hear the songs of which my brethren spoke…echo… “Further beyond the stone’s throw and a throne of worries and throes We are sipping the wine of the starlight’s curse; And I, as I am basking in nightfall, satiate my ebony thirst” First to raise the sword, the last to unsheathe the white flag of surrender The sole soul to see the dusk descend And (live to) witness the rising dawns again Beholding the red that’s turned to black Down the road of rock towards the mountaintops I still stand, even if by my lonesome self My tenaciousness forged by the great gorge Still standing, I am the last man The last man standing on the mountain The fire may have died, but my spirit will forever survive.