Snowy White

The wine it seems to dull the pain, And numb me from the hurt within, My glasses streak of freezing rain, Like tears that wash away my sin, But still my mind is bound to spin, And roar just like the stormy night, Each footstep plots a glistn’ing pace, Through frigid fields of snowy white. The bitter chill is creeping in, I close my eyes against the cold, The icy frost attacks my skin, The mur’drous chill’s embracing hold, My mind still wonders uncontrolled, With focused thoughts of sad contrite, Which led me to this coming grave, Through frigid fields of snowy white. The wind it howls a mournful cry, And cuts through me like sharpened steel, The storm twirls on a blackened sky, To accentuate this guilt I feel, A mangled soul I can’t conceal, That yearns to end it’s hurt tonight, It drives me on through hopeless bounds, Through frigid fields of snowy white. No more her face will haunt my sleep, No more I’ll drink away the hurt, And forget these mem’ries that I keep, And bury them in snow and dirt, The frost builds up upon my shirt, And stings my skin with winter’s spite, And yet I gravely soldier on, Through frigid fields of snowy white. And now my stricken trek is done, In this frigid field that’s near no town, I’ll stop to watch the rising sun, And give in this urge to just lay down, But the soothing numbness all around, The warmth of death I’ll now invite, And walk no more through mem’ries pain, Through frigid fields of snowy white.