Oh! I call myself Grim
A man borne of wisdoms clear
Too long have I slept in silence
The frost now creeps into the year

Oh! The boughs will bend and break
Ice will root over the land
The wind will take your breath and make a prison of your lungs
And the blood of millions will slake my hands

The air grows colder
The waters freeze in place
The crops will falter, wells will dry
Another thousand years will make you realise your place
A thousand winters, millions die

Winter's Father

No escape from the biting of the chill
Your fingertips will shatter
His name is Winter and he will be the end of your days
Your kin will weep upon his alter

Winter's Father

Oh! A blanket of smothering night
Stars seem to blink out their light
Heartbeats will begin to slow
Your bodies lost in eternal snow

Sleep now...

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