Winter - Dargaard

I call forth the cold

The coming signs of winter

Black 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

Snow from the sky

Hiding the face of the earth

Thousand daggers piercing my skin

Winds from the north, alone in the skies

I call forth the cold

The coming signs of winter

Ravens seem to be the only

Life beside me suddenly

They cover my sight to the horizon

Blood becomes ice

Flesh becomes rock

I call forth the cold

The coming signs of winter