A frosty velvet of icy shores
Beside the waters, they kiss once more
Alone at last amidst the snow
a wind then rustles a chilling blow

In the distance voices heard
The shouts of men, the clash of swords
a fervent light dimly seen
hidden behind a misty screen

The flames then flicker brighter still
In armor black, a torrid shrill
A fervent pitch, a warlike cry
A cry to heaven that he must die

From the Wolfshire house of lore
came twelve men with blood like gore
She held on him tighter still
as knights of dark charged down the hill

He took his sword of golden gleam
and gave a roar of blasting scream
Then in the back with torch of fire
came three men with of dread most dire

Bravely he stood there and fought
upon that gleaming moonlit night
But overwhelmed by knights of dark
he fell by sword, a bloody mark

He lay there wounded on the snow
As the men then torched his keep
His love beside the river's flow
Dragged by her hair up hills so steep

His eyes beheld a sight untold
from the vicious depths of old
With a roar of infernal jest
They stabbed her swiftly through the breast

He rushed then limping, a sword of red
with a desperate, vengeful cry
Towards utter death, he charged ahead
but he was not allowed to die

Instead an angel from heavens gleam
bestowed on him an endless dream
To stone he turned in awe of all
to stand before his lover's fall

The years then passed and seasons changed
His only thought, his last lone kiss
Through his mind forever still
A statue upon those rolling hills

Then one night, when stars then fall
past the mountains proud and tall
A wish upon his dream forsaken
The stones then crumble, and he awakens