Crowned with flowers long faded in their hair
Uncounted, long and lonely paths perhaps they trode
And some parts of them still linger there
They look tired and and they look shaken
Crowned with the dust of many years
What toll from them have the memories taken?
Or perhaps awoken ancient fears...
Where does our road lead?
Whence the travelers return
What unknown path do we tread?
From what perils will we have to turn?
Before we can return to our abode
Or shall we willing or not, have to linger there
Like them who came walking down the dusty road
Crowned with flowers long faded in their hair
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