The winter is coming for me A bower in the teeth of the wind A hillock of snow and black ice It comes with a grave in it's mouth And I'm already cold at the edge I have no reason to tell Why I have blasphemed the sun Why I have sought out the night Then stood and laughed at the moon Why I've been idle in air I think I was born to a fear That a great thing would slip from my grasp Would shatter and turn every head To the skittering silence it left Leaving me barren, undone. So I have watched a sun set From every crossroad I found And awoke every morning the same In a wilderness starting again And the winter is coming for me. The winter is coming for me A bower in the teeth of the wind A hillock of snow and black ice For the wanter and waster a grave And I'm already cold at the edge