There is no light still shining
on winter's cloak of white
on fields of stars erased by time
there is no guiding light
Once pure in dreams belated
there's nothing left inside
long claws have ripped apart
the child that dreamt of white
Instead, now stands the adult
that swims in seas of lies...
the hounds of death are howling
and feast on all that's right.
on winter's cloak of white
on fields of stars erased by time
there is no guiding light
Once pure in dreams belated
there's nothing left inside
long claws have ripped apart
the child that dreamt of white
Instead, now stands the adult
that swims in seas of lies...
the hounds of death are howling
and feast on all that's right.
