Irrlicht

In the deepest rocky depths
A will-o'-the-wisp lured me in;
Finding my way out,
Isn't hard for me to think.

I'm used to wandering around,
Every path leads to a goal;
Our joys, our pains,
All just a game of a will-o'-the-wisp!

Through the dry channels of the mountain stream
I calmly wind my way down,
Every stream will reach the sea,
Every suffering will find its grave.