Across the high barren moors Searching for some living For signs of an early spring This is the end of all
We evolve in a maze In every winter And lose all distinction
Of our fears, of their lies In the Winter Tides We let ourselves die
Our visions of hope are endless, in the shelter we create Now in the winter tides, we let ourselves die
We're falling We're falling... In the Winter Tides, we let ourselves die The gods we are praying A mantra lost in a river asleep Another veiled betrayal What remains is our constant fear The frost covers our shields And our visions tremble
We witness the valleys Embracing each dying leave One by one, falling Such a Leitmotiv of final end
