Do you hear the chilly wind and see the branches dance?

The lake is all but freezing up and deers no longer prance.

The grass goes grey and lights fade out, the crevice widens there;

The flowers die and Life soon goes, the forest is stripped bare.

The land beyond the broadened gap, it's growing ever stronger,

Luring souls into it's path — Oh that's their biggest blunder!

Once they cross and step on land, they don't ever return,

Once depressed and labelled such, it's very hard to turn.

The grayscale hue just stains the world, the colour all drains out,

Then your life of melancholy eventually will sprout.