The Witch Of The Winter
The Witch of the Winter she calls to me,
Come lay in my cool, white softness.
So lovely and pure, I will be your cure,
For all the world’s sorrow and sadness.
No struggles, no pain, you can only gain,
Come to me, escape all of this madness.
Her voice in the wind sings a sweet delight,
As she calls me to lie on her mattress.
Soft and white in the middle of the night,