Why am I attracted to this ancient path,
that shelters the mind from ugly thoughts?
I wish I could feel the cleanness of the soul again,
where courage was ours in the day of wild adrenalin.
I hear a devil mocking my prayers as I rage with lost innocent tongue.
I look hard at this English hand and repent in the horror of my being.
I am now unsafe like a child among Lions,
I walk Old Hall path, the graveyard of evening claims all that I was,
and all that I am.
