Woodland Hunter (Part I)

Cold hunters knife

Washed in a silver rain

Washed in wings and pierced by those claws that cling

To the throats and hands of death

Bold brazen child

Who said you could do these things

Made from rain and light blowing in from space

Now, to kill, and fight, and hide your claim

Cold haunted heart

Your dream of my warm embrace

All the while carving with all your hate,

Rage and bile, to turn me cold

But cold is home and I am winter

Blinding light and blasting horns

If you want warmth then I am summer

But choose the one you're wanting more