Upon a frigid winter's eve,
A man prepares to take his leave,
Before the last of dying light,
Before the unforgiving night.
Woe to those he leaves behind,
The life from which he has resigned,
The children who will cry his name,
The mother who will curse the same.
Woe to the man who lost his way,
The man who has been led astray,
The man who gives up all he's known,
To wander blindly the unknown.
Upon a frigid winter's eve,
A man has gone, he took his leave,
Beneath the rays of dying light,
Into an unforgiving night.