When the winds blew in the winter and only grew colder, could it not have
been my arms that extended to hold her.
Are my hands too chared, too broken or frail, or was it simply my heart that
lost her trail?
Would she cry if I where gone like a bird with no song, no wind to carry it
home and like a king with no throne.
Its her eyes that haunt me and her voice that taunts me, but her heart does
not want me.
Let the rivers run cold and the days turn old, the seasons may change but it
all stays the same.
Oh creature of dark, why do you hark, that no one cares when I was there,
with my arms in the air...
Let the winds blow colder, for this winter will never be over inside me...
 
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