The Hills on the Border Sting

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Oh, the hills on the border
'Bout this time of the year
When the mists seem to gather
In the valley of your fears

And you walk through that valley
As day turns to night
Is there something in the shadows
Or the failing of the light?

I was walking home last evening
When perhaps I should have ran
From a darkening of shadows
In the shape of a man

It said, "Talk to me, stranger
Or may I call you brother?
Let us make our way together
From this place to another

I don't carry any weapon
I don't carry any staff
But I'll carry half your burden
Till your journey's cut in half

Let me sharе of your burden
The lifetimе you will carve
And the gravestone that you carry
Will be a burden halved"