Roanoke

Son, you know my name
you know my wonder,
but still you run.
When the winter came,
the trouble came,
and now you're gone.
I found the remnants,
of Croatoan carved in a tree,
Roanoke is gone, no bones left to bury.
Wait for - wait for it
wait until it comes
If we stay here, we die here
so let's pick up and run.