Amdist the black of the night
Awash with the silver winter brath
Amidst the depths of snows
Attired in the icy shroud
You stand under the stars
Gazing into the black eptiness

Hearken! The wind has spoken
One that carries the smell of death
It weaves the stories of countless full moons
Of dead worlds covered with mist of oblivion
It tempts with the stories of keeps
Cut in the granite cliffs
Of distant icy domains

You listen to stories
And cross the gates of your last journey
One that is filled with pain and desire
Fuelled by grim moan of millennial forests
You arrive at the end of your journey
Fulfilling your destiny and fate