Falconer

Early Morning
It's cold and the snow is whirling
Like a warning, a promising fate
But the king rests in peace on his sled
Hooves are pounding
So many thoughts in his head
All around him
What if he knows
He will never again go to bed
Find him
Run for your life
Only promise you'll find him
Throw him in boiling led
Nail down the traitor
Cross over the ice
Through the wind blows and the hate grows
Your thoughts will suffice