Lyrics
He rides the frost-lip brother in the gale,
Into a blinding storm where visions fail.
His bone bow pale, his glowing daggers bright,
One blue, one green against the sea of white.
The snow consumes the edges of the sky,
And hides the jagged ridges from the eye.
A thread of gold upon the dragon's scale,
Is all the world within the roaring gale.
The echo of a hum is all they know,
To find the narrow path above the snow.
Call the turns when the wing is blind,
Leave the fury of the storm behind.
When the singing crack is cold and deep,
He is the promise that the wind will keep.
A round and open echo is a lie,
A thinning note will mean an edge is nigh.
He hears the ring of metal near the bone,
And screams out "up" to clear the unseen stone.
He wipes his frozen lashes in the chill,
A heartbeat lost before his voice can spill.
Unseen, the ice ticks off a rocky flaw,
They miss the brutal wall by just a claw.
He dreams about a campfire in the mist,
The quiet den where sleeping wings persist.
He holds his brother in the howling black,
And finds his family on the dragon's back.
The echo of a hum is all they know,
To find the narrow path above the snow.
Call the turns when the wing is blind,
Leave the fury of the storm behind.
When the singing crack is cold and deep,
He is the promise that the wind will keep.
The white still keeps its teeth...
He calls the next turn...