Winter

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of winter.

The coming signs of winter.

Black claw-like hands raised to the sky.

Silhouettes of trees with no more leaves,

Growing on their long lean twigs.

Soul mirrors showing me,

A shadowed face.

Waters frozen and rugged, unmoved.

Cloth, white, is falling on the ground.

Snow from the sky; trying to hide,

The face of the earth.

Thousand daggers are piercing my skin

Winds from the north, alone in the skies.

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of winter.

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of winter.

The coming signs of winter.

Ravens seem to be the only

Life beside me; suddenly

They cover the sky to the horizon.

Blood becomes ice.

Flesh becomes rock.

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of Winter.

Winter…

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of Winter.

Winter…

I call forth the cold,

The coming signs of winter.