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I who hath wings, to fly to many places |
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can clearly hear migration's call |
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Yet I turn away, betray the sky's arrows |
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My choice that will let instinct fall |
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Fall to the cold |
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Cold, from they go to seek warmer pleasures |
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They heed autumn's warning |
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To south they have fled |
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I long for the way, yet I turn around |
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And on icy cold wings I head north for the |
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winter |
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Dark is the snow under chilling gray moonlight |
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Wind strips the down from my wings |
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Lonely and scared, as a new hunger finds me |
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This may be the last time I sleep |
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Hope I can dream |
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Dream of a place my friends have all entered |
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Warm and alive, to there I could fly |
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Yet here I will stay, and still I do wonder |
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My choosing, not calling is north for the winter |
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I could turn around, leave this vast prison |
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empty the days I have, will be no more |
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I stay! Oh why do I stay? |
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Away! Please take me away! |
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Home is my winter |
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The day they find me is the day I won't see! |
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Last are the days that I will remember |
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Cold and alone, time knows when I'll die |
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Same is the sun that pales on this winter, |
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Also shines brightly on lands of the warm |
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Far from my home |
