Every year of every day,

with every hour,

follows every minute.

Every second I spend shrouded in the foggy cloud,

never to see the warm light of the sun, or the colors of the leaves in Fall.

The beauty of flowers in the Spring, nor the purity of snow in Winter.

Every second I spend shrouded in the foggy cloud.

Every year of every day,

with every hour,

follows every minute,

that is until the seconds stop.

Every day, I live without knowing what is to await outside my sanctum.

Could it be a bear, a wolf, a murderer?

I could not know, for every second I spend shrouded in the foggy cloud.

Every year of every day,

with every hour,

follows every minute,

that is until the seconds stop.

What comes today will leave tomorrow,

and what follows after remains for all eternity.

I hear all.

I hear the songful birds, the whistling wind, and the chirping insects.

I hear the assassin within shadow, I hear the quietest breath, and the beating heart.

The pumping of blood in your veins, and the trembling of your body when you're cold.

With every year of every day,

with every hour,

follows every minute.

Every second I spend shrouded in the foggy cloud,

I hear all,

for I am The Wanderer,

that is until the seconds stop.