Staring at that far shore,
at all those that's fading;
my paddle whispers to icy water,
for its consent to go further.
...
His eyes searches for hers
and hands reaches for hers,
But the winds of winter has blown
and the house which had shone,
...
Still I Row
Staring at that far shore,
at all those that's fading;
my paddle whispers to icy water,
for its consent to go further.
Ahead some storm seems always brewing,
but for love of all those that's fading,
my paddle still whispers to icy water,
to go further and further.