No signs of life to be found
Where the King wears an orange crown
Your lungs will freeze without a sound
If you cannot read The White

The King is alone by the sea
Where The White Wind blows bitterly
And I would have missed his majesty
If I did not learn The White
If I could not read The White Book

I am old now looking dimly through a glass
On a primeval book covered with grass
Where all suffering creatures will come
And their names are not forgotten
I join in with the cries of eternal loss
And write in my name
Where the Four Winds cross

Before me lies the path of most resistance
All around me they're calling for the sun
A shivering grin is plastered to my face
By the gale force winds
On the path of most resistance
As it takes me to the brink of life
Withstanding Winter wings of endless nightfall
Only to taste a glimpse of the light
Through the cracks in the wall
That obscures us from the morning sun...

Laughter was the sound that we made then
And the waters ran green
With the roots and mossy earth
We lit a fire over the hearth
Under our roof we heard a choir

Laughter was the sound that we made then
And the waters ran green
With the roots and mossy earth
We lit a fire over the hearth
Under our roof we heard a choir

Oh to see again the choir free
And to hear again the waters sing

On pale pastures and starving streams
No signs of The King have been seen
But tonight I will be waiting alone by the sea
To read a new page in The White

Deep in the hive bites the blue sting
To the sounds of the wings awakening
And I would have missed this Siberian Spring
If I had not learned
The White....