Cursed is he whose thirst to sate,
has wandered in beyond the gate.
Fate can not work in reverse,
first goes last and last is first.
Winding turns down paths of fear,
sobbing sounds of silent tears.
Walls that weep in drops of red,
vestige sought among the dead.
Should torches dim and all turns black,
remember there's no turning back.
You've reached a point of no return,
your soul belongs to those who yearn.
Turn around and if you dare,
the path behind just isn't there.
It disappeared between the walls,
and lost itself in Haggards' Halls.
Ref: Haggard's Halls ( V )
