Brittle shards of snow and ice,
Prison you are on morbid cage
Send to a ruinous vice,
Trap by flock of rage.
Bounty upon your head
A flock that’s filled with dread.
Trail they trip to land unknown,
By stone and ice and death,
That bore a queer alone
Of distant whispers breath.
Sudden sensation of your fear,
A stain of heart that is clear.
This prize that you are now claim,
Time that shroud to your fate.
What makes you worth the fame?
Behind this cold and logic hate
And step amidst the one who sieze,
Behind the cold and logic freeze.
Music: Cold Comfort by nomosubu