Cold as the northern winds

in December mornings,

Cold is the cry that rings

from this far distant shore.

Winter has come too late,

too close beside me.

How can I chase away

all these fears deep inside?

I'll find a way.

I will wait the time to come.

I'll find a way home.

My light shall be the moon,

and my path - the ocean.

My guide the morning star,

as I sail home to you.

I'll wait the signs to come.

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 - a boat

I will sail home to you.

I will sail home to you.

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