Atop a black, rocky mountain, like a demon ready to kill,
Sits the destroyer of courage, none can escape from its will.
He can visit whenever he wishes, but it seems he will only come:
When the Lighthouse is looking the other way, it is then that his will is done.

Atop a white, grassy mountian, looking down with the love of a god,
Rests the bringer of paradise, tired from doing her job.
No matter the person, the place, the time, she will always come,
To comfort the ones that have been to the Cliff, his work must be undone.

Forever has it been this way, and forever will it be done,
Like the thud of your feet down below you, or the constant beat of a drum.
The destroyer of courage gives fear to the boats, feeding them to the sea,
But the bringer of paradise sends hope to the boats, saving them from the deep.