Winter's Gate, Pt. 4

Still I bear the flowers of pain, of solitude

And on the mountain's side

Grim-looking gates lies

Staring towards the north

Waiting in solitude

Barring the way inside

The giant doors of stone

Not built for mortal men

Not made for us to pass

Vile trick of ornery gods?

Rewards and riches

Right here within our reach

Not within our grasp

I walk with my head down

Wind blows right through my waning heart

Weightless, like a bird in my arms

She looks into the bottom of my soul

Grave tidings from the northside

Grave is the tone of this night

Weightsome the dark around us

The weight of time upon us

No one will sing tonight

No one will leave the pyre

Dreaming of gloden wolf

Dreading the winter's might

Vile trick of ornery gods?

Rewards and riches

Right here within our reach

Not within our grasp