On Most Surfaces (Inuit)
by The Gathering· from Nighttime Birds
The frost hits me in the eye
And wakes me
These are blury winters
And I cannot see
I walk into the white light of the snow
When the sun comes
I break it with my shadow
Which tales me where I go
The frost hits me in the eye
And wakes me
I am the snow falling down on you
I tear up your face with my frost
And make you run to somewhere warm
When I come I see you get away
I burst out about your emptyness
The frost hits me in the eye
And wakes me
These are blury winters
And I cannot see