I like to think of myself as footprints in the snow
You can see that I was there, but you can’t tell who I am.
I mean, sure, you can find out what kind of shoes I wore
How prepared I was for the weather, my style from the treads
Maybe my weight based on how far it’s sunk in
But do you really know anything about me?
Can you really tell anything about who I am?

I don’t go out into the cold often
It’s nothing like the dark, where I’m traceless, where I’m broken
I go out to the cold to start a new journey, to venture where it hurts
To fill the ice to my lungs and understand that I still breathe
That I keep breathing, that I can go on
Even though it at times it’s empty
Even though at times I can’t..quite..go on
Perhaps one day I hope you’ll follow me, to find out all the rest?
Please do not think you have the full story—though it remains representing me, since that’s what people do.

When I go out into the dark, you can’t see me, you can hear me
But you’ll never know me there if I do not make a sound
Out here you will know, I can’t hide from you at all
But the only thing you’ll ever learn is which way I was bound.