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 frare, 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 natures's might
Here on the highest mountain

With the highest birches
I'm awake and observing,
Waiting for the end to come