There's a street called the lonely path
Its on the upland where Just a few can see
Its narrow and free, just a few walk through it
Its desolate, no one wants the misery that comes with it.
But the few who walk past it
Know its a gateway to growth.
The leaves along the path are dry
It's often winter there
But from it is made greatness
The chirping of birds are low
The howling of owls are loud-
To scare the timid heart.
The greens are wrinkled
The thorns are fresh-
To bruise the passerbys
But on this lonely path lies strength for the future