I stand on a hill in the twilight, My head hung low, Grinning smugly, for I know What will be my final battle begins tonight. The sun goes down but soon arrives new light. They are the shells and guns; they come with each fight. I know in my heart what comes now will be sour, For in all my black times this will be my darkest hour. The clashing begins. I use every ounce of power in my hands, But despite my hardest efforts I always find myself Flying To the bleak fields of death ahead of me, Trying To get a grip of the darkness I can't see, Crying Out in pain, driven insane by every frame, Dying For I never ever had a chance to dodge the shame. The perpetual black veil of death That keeps causing my vision to hang Makes me think that the only way To go out with the proverbial bang Is to put the barrel to my own head and say, "What a beautiful dream it could have been." But now the fight is ended. They say to me that we have won. I know better, however, My battle's just begun. My career here is marred with darkness. I've held on long enough. Every time things get rough, I can't see. "Tough," They'd say, it's my fault anyway. My men charge on without me. I do not follow, but cast myself away. I turn back, not to train but wait behind, For somehow I must find a force beyond my mind To give myself new power, to keep from going blind. I will grasp such a Holy Grail, And return some day to claim my prize. But before that day I shall be absent from your eyes. I remain in self-exile until the day I can set sail And walk in the perfect sunlight of the newfound day, For until the coming of the dawn I have no reason to play.