Winter Ballad

A skeleton wind blows through the trees
That shudder and creak like ancient bones
Memories stripped of their temporality
Wind through the trees, wind through the trees

The strength of sin rips wings, o how they groan
They ride with the wind, the wind, the wind
Faith in things holds dead men cold
And lost to the wind, lost to the wind

Here at the edge of the world we stand
Waiting for the miracle, waiting for the end
A lonely echo faintly resounds
Adrift in the wind, adrift in the wind

Our tears may nourish the grass or the sky
Depending on whether the wind will fly
Though it has been said that even stars expire
Lost in the dark, lost to the day

Nothing more remains, all is fulfilled
Our cold dead embrace can balm no ache
Nothing remains but what the faithless call fate
Nothing remains but the infinite wait

Yet the wind, the wind, the wind may one day
The wind may carry this constancy away
May carry away all the tears and the stars
May carry our wintry years away