Taxed and trapped among the trees, the wilderness encases me.
Scraped by the branches, bruised by the thorns
I don't think I'll ever make it out.
I don't think I'll ever make it home.
They say you'll find refuge in the forest but all I've found is bones.
Dragging the dull sword my eyes get lost on the ground.
My olive branch of peace only seems to fade.
But I take heart.
My refuge, my justice starts at the end of the forest walls.
I won't stop treading these grounds.
Bleeding through the woods I'll find those walls
and I will find my rain.
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