I endlessly anticipate
The Death of this Age
And the futility of our ways
I can no longer tolerate
The forfeiting of our Fates
To tyrants’ hands to shape

I’ve lost faith in all I know
In family and in home
And Love’s anemic road
I can no longer show
Acceptance or bestow
Good will on a world so cutthroat

When bonds of blood run thin and disappear
And the open heart bitter and austere
When our Hopes and our Dreams fall at the feet of Fear
The end of our Season draws near

I’ve cut a path clear
For another futile year
Winter of Wolves draws near

When bonds of blood run thin and disappear
And the open heart bitter and austere
When our Hopes and our Dreams fall at the feet of Fear
The end of our Season draws near