I endlessly anticipate The Death of this Age And the futility of our ways I can no longer tolerate The forfeiting of our Fates To tyrants’ hands to shape I’ve lost faith in all I know In family and in home And Love’s anemic road I can no longer show Acceptance or bestow Good will on a world so cutthroat When bonds of blood run thin and disappear And the open heart bitter and austere When our Hopes and our Dreams fall at the feet of Fear The end of our Season draws near I’ve cut a path clear For another futile year Winter of Wolves draws near When bonds of blood run thin and disappear And the open heart bitter and austere When our Hopes and our Dreams fall at the feet of Fear The end of our Season draws near