The world is turning, reaching its end
And the end is moaning, birthing the cold
Scarred skin transforming,
The frozen flare, sleepwalking
I stand in silence, the brother of trees
We drop our garments, naked we dream
Scarred skin transforming,
The frozen flare, sleepwalking
Night frost is melting, sliding away
I'm still standing, finding the way
Pathways like veins, desecrated landscape
Needle nails of the trees, acrid wine of the wintry grapes
This wind is carving my flesh like a knife
Roots, barks and branches, the nature's might
Here on the highest mountain with the highest birches
I'm awake and observing, waiting for the end to come
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