Let arms be still and voices low,
They follow you where'er you go.
The Deep Roads are without an end,
Filled with foes, not with friends.
Cries of rage and torment follow,
Leaving living feeling hollow.
Spiders hunger for still warm blood,
As light holds back the darkspawn flood.
Stick to the path that leads to day,
To the Maker one should pray.
Choose not the path that leads to snare,
In it you can't be saved by prayer.
Finally, fresh surface air.
Outside the darkspawn's foul lair.
Despite the odds you have survived,
The darkspawn rage at pray deprived.
It's not a journey one should make,
It causes many hearts to break.
For always there will be the woe,
Of the path of the Deep Roads.