Exile
Cold as the northern winds in December mornings,Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore.
Winter has come to lay too close beside me.How can I chase away all this fears deep inside?
I'll wait the signs to come.I'll find a way.I will wait the time to come.I'll find a way home.
My light shall be the moonand my path - the ocean.My guide the Morning Staras I sail home to you.
I'll wait the signs to come.I'll find a way.I will wait the time to come.I'll find a way home.
Who then can warm my soul?Who can quell my passion?Out of these dreams abodeI will sail home to you.