I call forth the cold, The coming signs of winter. The coming signs of winter. Black claw-like 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.