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John Vanderslice

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John Vanderslice

White Wilderness

Lyricist：John Vanderslice

The sky was growing pale
So we held on to the twisted trial
The ground was getting cold
It was too far out to turn around and go home

The moon rose dim above
It was impossible to tell what time it was

The snow fell lightly at first
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It dusted the path, it frosted your hair
The snow fell, I stumbled, you laughed
We hoped and we hoped the snow wouldn't last

The light was sure to fail
And our hold on that twisted trail
But we we were unprepared
Our path had slowly disappeared