Just Ice by Thanksgiving Lyrics
Our little house is just drooping over
The land and the light and the windows
And for the fog the sickle-shaped moon glows
Through the wilderness so fantastically echo
The voices of grave robbers
And the other weary wanderers
Their breath is steam
They wiggle cold fingers
When we curl our toes
Blankets hung over our door
The land and the light and the windows
And for the fog the sickle-shaped moon glows
Through the wilderness so fantastically echo
The voices of grave robbers
And the other weary wanderers
Their breath is steam
They wiggle cold fingers
When we curl our toes
Blankets hung over our door