Cold as the northern winds,
in december mornings.
cold is the cry that rings,
from this far distant shove.

winter has come too late.
too close beside me.
how can i chase away
all these fears deep inside.

course:
i'll wait the singns to come.
i'll find a way.
i will wait the time to come.
i'll find a way home.

my light shall be the moon
and my path - the ocean.
my guide - the morning star,
as i sail home to you.

course

who then can warm my soul?
who can quell my passion?
out of these dreams - a boat.
i will sail home to you