There’s a shadowy figure in the forest
With a mask that can’t be harnessed
The light never seems to find him
Darkness always seems to give

Those who bear his mark upon their skin
Cant easily be identified,
The signs can’t always be seen
And the victims always feel crucified

Their eyes never meet with this stranger
Although they have known him for some time
They have been told not to shoot the messenger
But they know he’s just in their minds

Should the light ever eclipse the dark
They know the stranger will retreat
Another day he will return his mark
And they will feel his sting

If they fight against this known unknown enemy
Scars will fade into the background
If they flee from the darkness inside the leaves
Scars will falter and they shall bleed

Until death do they part shall they acknowledge
Who is the victor and who is the servant
Until the tears have been counted
And the statements have been given
Until the end has been chosen
And the words have been spoken
Can the people really judge the accuracy
of this final testimony’s painted story