Winter (Dargaard)

I call forth the cold The coming signs of winter 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 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