Out the window winds the winter
It sings a tune of long and sorrow splinter
It flickers through the glass and it chills
In its whisper I can feel the hallow
I can hear the final fine of the Lister;
With a grin I read its deadly line;
It reads simple and weirdly sublime
It purely states that we are - completely -
It sings a tune of long and sorrow splinter
It flickers through the glass and it chills
In its whisper I can feel the hallow
I can hear the final fine of the Lister;
With a grin I read its deadly line;
It reads simple and weirdly sublime
It purely states that we are - completely -
Out of time.
|