I stride through the bitter night,
As the cold wind cuts me down,
I struggle for the arms of my sweetheart,
Struck through with a whistling sound.
I'm stunned by the sound of silence,
The lonliness of the air,
All the souls run for shelter,
Mother nature without a care.
A single syallable of madness,
To go out un-prepared,
Wrap up warm, for when winter comes,
Not a single soul shall be spared.