Wyrd - Ghost of Winter Ghost of Winter The pathways in hiding I trudge, a mere wanderer am I Philosopher, soul of songs, naked, ragged and torn Treasures of kings bear no meaning for me, your morals and laws are not for me Through the air, on wings unseen, arrive my treasures, unmeasured Like a ghost I glide from shadow to shadow At the edges of your known world, in your dreams I hide On wings of winds, like a ghost of winter I breath my cold of thousand yesterdays Someday the whole world will know: Misanthropy is not phase And where I go, you can't follow http://rockerek.hu/