To Return...
To return to the cold,
It isn't much fun,
To touch the trees no one has known.
Go rest your head,
Cause you can't miss this...
Poor boy became
A slave to use.
Now despair moves in so close.
Too many years, free at last.
He didn't know, so learned to speak.
He clears his throat,
Cause you can't miss this...
Poor boy became
A slave to use.
Rebuild what's left
Of this child, so weak...
Sorry, changes, trample the plan.
Death, stores, victims...
Once more...
Keep on burnin' through the noose,
To return, to the cold...
It isn't much, but I'm free at last.