I have travelled, travelled through the coldest of winters. Lashes of wind have hurt my body screaming hymns of the frost and
taking away pieces of my soul, as they stole pieces of other suffering beings... I have slept, slept upon the hardest of stones,
dusted nails have hurt my body, disturbing my dreams with their nightmares... And taking away pieces of my soul... Is the road still
long?... I have cried, cried around the saddest of shores, where the thoughts follow the tide, where the thoughts follow the wind...
Jaws made of water have hurt my body, leaving my flesh naked and weak and my soul's gone with the breeze... "Show me the path, oh
coldest of winds, cause I feel I'm in darkness, I'm afraid and I'm tortured by the pain of my open wounds..." Now I'm going to die,
die in the most 'lone of all thrones, where I could lay my tired body and sing lullabies for my death, hoping the wind gave my
soul to the angels (and the souls of other suffering beings...).