The frosty bite of the winters chill
Brought me from my daze
I was brought forth to a white painted hill
To look upon the trees that made up a maze
A fine winter indeed with a splatter of sorrow
As the ravens scream ahead
Because someone who will not see tomorrow
Today has been pronounced dead
The church bells sound with a booming ring
And the trees look desperately bare
And the choir overhead I can hear them sing
So I know you've gone safely there