At any point in our winter,
There comes a time in which we see
Green fields give way to snow.
The yellow of the leaves now fading,
a blanket white of flakes.

And thus we sing in merriment.
And bake, and eat, and pray:
The king of kings is coming!
Outside the icy tears of heav’n;
a blanket white of flakes.

Yea, the blanket of the angels!
Swept down to earth by force,
Shall bring not good, but evil;
Shall make us blind forever -
a blanket white of flakes.

For at any point in our winter,
There comes a time in which we see
The hollow shells, the sick’ning lies,
Unshackled hate - and our world
beneath a blanket white of flakes.