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| Packed to the gills | We headed into the blues | Unknowing of what layed ahead | The trails wound into the mountains | Through thick and thin |
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| No matter what manner of jungle stood in our path | We pushed through | To find a peice of history | A WWII plane that wrecked in 1944 | You could still smell the stories |
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| wreckage scattered through the trees | So in the trees we went | a 23 yr old Navy pilots engine | As tangible as it gets | Like a post apoc relic |
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| One last look back at Deadman Peak | And we emerged from the trees | Warriors of the weeds | ||
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| Soldiers of the saplings | ||||