A wind, as black as darkness, blows,

Sweeping over the desolate land.

No one cares where this wind goes,

Touching everything with its shapeless hand.

A story is told of a vengenful man,

Searching for the killer of his home.

He travels wherever the killer goes

Always with friends, always alone.

I can still hear that black wind wail,

As Saskue wached his family die

And i remember that haunting tale,

That told of a man with out a reason to abide.