| And so does the downhearted tune
|
| Resound through this murky night
|
| And the wind groan its wistful song
|
| For the ill-lucked dwellers in plight
|
| These two round-shouldered figures
|
| Forward slowly through this grey day
|
| Under the forest’s white canopy
|
| Out of the drifting snow’s way
|
| With rime dressed faces they wander
|
| With guilt carved hearts they flee
|
| With grim stained minds they hover
|
| Between hope and despair
|
| With rime dressed faces they wander
|
| With guilt carved hearts they flee
|
| With grim stained minds they ponder
|
| If they ever be free of their sins
|
| May the stars become my eyes
|
| And the wind become my hearing
|
| Let them guide us through
|
| These pitch-dark mornings
|
| May the snowfall end
|
| And the shining moon rise
|
| So we can find our way out
|
| From these all-consuming nights
|
| Underneath the blanket of stars
|
| Embraced by another cold night
|
| Two round-shouldered figures
|
| Leave these shores behind
|
| Quietly they wonder
|
| If they ever will see the light
|
| They now lose in their shadows
|
| Owe to the darkest of nights
|
| With rime dressed faces they wander
|
| With guilt carved hearts they flee
|
| With grim stained minds they hover
|
| Between hope and despair
|
| With rime dressed faces they wander
|
| With guilt carved hearts they flee
|
| With grim stained minds they ponder
|
| If they ever be free of their sins |