| Welcome to a place where the cold is strong
|
| Where the winters are slow and the road is long
|
| The mountain is my master
|
| A slave to the climb but I must climb faster
|
| Who is that man walking into white?
|
| He beckons to me and disappears from sight
|
| It tears at my face but I bear the storm
|
| It matters not for the bonds keep me warm
|
| Welcome to a place where you’re far from home
|
| Where the walls are white and you struggle alone
|
| He cannot see my face, he’s getting worse
|
| At the peak of insanity, climbing in reverse
|
| Storms in his eyes give light to my cause
|
| Saving his mind to animate this corpse
|
| His fits intensify, these bonds must tighten
|
| Trembling, his stare knows no horizon
|
| I feel no pain. |
| I know no fear
|
| And I see no God up here
|
| Upon the frosted fang
|
| Who is that man beckoning finger aloft?
|
| Though I fall I pick myself up
|
| It matters not for the rocks are so soft
|
| There can’t be another, for I am alone
|
| Finding respite, sheltered by a stone
|
| I close my eyes and cover my ears
|
| The man disappears
|
| I see the mountain
|
| I see clouds follow me
|
| My eyes cripple horizons
|
| Beyond what man has ever seen
|
| I lust for the mountain
|
| The summit calls my mortal soul:
|
| «Cast yourself from the peak
|
| That I might swallow you whole.»
|
| Welcome to a place where the river never dries
|
| Where the road goes on and the winter never dies
|
| This is my march where my will never bends
|
| Where the mountain is tall and my climb never ends |