The frost descended upon my heart
And gave no quarter to forgiveness
It drew a featureless horizon
That laid siege to my deepest weakness

Dark ceremony of my failure
I celebrate today on my own

Yet when the cold wind blows again
Through the tall halls of my body
I raise my glass up high in vain
My heart stripped down and disembodied

Strange lurid hands defile the warmth
That once brought laughter to these walls
And desolation rules alone
The clutch of frost obeyed her call

Celebration of hanging on a thread
A banquet for the living dead
Four dozen seasons lost
Cold anniversary of the frost

Copyright: O/B/O DistroKid
Writer(s): Ady Cernea