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    you 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