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Never had been so cruelly cold and long a winter |
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Over the glaring white mountains |
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By night you hear the wolves howl |
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Hungry, desperate souls |
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Dying a bitter winter death |
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Moonlight in his eye |
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A haggard wolf as furtive as a ghost |
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His narrow shadow glinting in the whiteness |
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He turns his head into the wind |
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Picks up the trail |
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He's on the prowl with glassy eyes |
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He never sleeps, bargain for live |
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Take a look around, can't you see the wind, the hills, the snow |
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They're yours; they're his as well as mine |
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Most precious gift in desperate times |
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A haggard man with tired steps and a loaded gun |
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Waiting in the glaring white mountains |
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By night he hears the wolves howl |
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Hungry, desperate souls |
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Dying a bitter winter death |
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Moonlight in his eye |
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A sudden move in densely copse |
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The bottom line, |
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A sounding shot, a tortured cry |
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And fleeing gaits lost in the night |
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Take a look around, can't you see the wind, the hills, the snow |
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They're yours; they're his as well as mine |
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Most precious gift in desperate times |
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On and on he stumbles through the woods |
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Warm blood trickles down, down, down |
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Step by step, the hunter's there |
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But he couldn't see the brightness of the moon |
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As he ends his work |
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Take a look around, can't you see the wind, the hills, the snow |
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They're yours; they're his as well as mine |
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Most precious gift in desperate times |
