Fiery stones, that scream in pain,
The solemn men do walk.
Voices stolen by the flame
The elders do not talk

They seek the land of Neverthings
A land of woe and rue.
To find a beast of leatherwings
and the magic he can do.

The trail is hard, the suffering long,
The alternate route is death.
Yet these old men, with silent song
Will search till their last breath

And wither they seek and when they find
the creature of salvation
Then willing, sacrifice their mind
for survival of their nation.