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 Descending Winters
 
 Out  the north into the south
 Winter turned his  mouth
 Tearing down  voices of living
 Leaving bodies buried  ice
 
  wrath of distant clouds
  the weeping of the ground, it will come
  wind carries the voice of doom
  songs for the damned
 
 Descending winters for all 
 All  is gone in his hands
 Out from the north into the 
 Winter turned his  mouth
 
 Slaying the oceans and darkening the 
 With little breeze,  will come
 Enormous tide  burning cold storms
 He will cleanse the land with single 
 
  winters for all lands
 All  is gone in his hands
 Out from the north  the south
 Winter turned his  mouth
 
 No shelter can save us 
  the winds come roaring
 There is  place to hide
 The final season is  at hand
 Taste the air  silent, it will come...
 
 Descending winters for  lands
 All hope is  in his hands
 Out from the north  the south
 Winter  his frozen mouth