Mystery surrounds
We can not tell
We know not
How we fell

I am cursed to walk
Among those down low
Where people pass
And time is slow

Where leaves turn brown
Where rivers freeze
Where the sky turns dark
And you can feel the breeze

This foreign place
I do not know
I want the truth
That will never show

I want to be told the secret
To this foreign land
But I fear I lost the bet
Question is, at who's hand?