You called my name,
Through the woods of cold despair.
Ghosts in the wind,
Your hair dark as the night sky.
My bleak beloved,
Your face was warm yet so cold.
I saw your grin,
With eyes as red as bloodstone.

Eyes, they stare, through me,
And in to my soul.
Hands, they grasp, at light,
Yet find only dark.

Then, the frost,
It fell, on the ravens wings.
Death, drew near,
Winter, of my vehemence.

You called my name,
Through the woods of cold despair.
Ghosts in the wind,
Your hair dark as the night sky.
My bleak beloved,
Your face was warm yet so cold.
I saw your grin,
With eyes as red as bloodstone.

Fog, it shrouds, this place,
With its ghostly mist.
My, seraph, my dear,
A spectral shadow.

Then, the frost,
It fell, on the ravens wings.
Death, drew near,
Winter, of my vehemence.

The coldness of winter enters.
The forest glistens with snow.
The darkness of my heart blankets
The trees in a shroud of misery on The wings of ravens.

I cry tears,
Of pure darkness.
Snow falls down,
On my bleak flesh.
My dark bride,
Is in her grave.
I bleed here,
For you my love.