Guest
When the white tiger roars And the ice knives come showering from the sky. I´ll be looking for my shelter In the place where all humans slowly die. In the cold wintry woods Trees are whispering of my demise Trail of red from these wounds As my flesh slowly turns into ice. Chorus: Stillburn fire like stillborn child Nature´ howling dreadfully wild. Not a glimpse in the grey firmament. Kholod´s here my life to lament… Wolfs are haunting their prey Bears approaching to tear off my skin. Leafless forest betrays. Cold outside and freezing within.
