The water is cold; it chills me to my bones. Still, through veins, blood flows. With eyes wide, with heart slow, I fall beneath the surface, swimming with the fish and serpents, of times gone. Long hair sways gracefully in the currents and the weeds; all is peaceful. White snow blankets the mountains, it's a sign of times a-coming, of times gone. We know the winter's coming, she is coming again, not too long. The fire destroys, consumes trees; how it grows. Wild winds feed; no rains fall. Eyes sting and lungs draw. The heavens all ablaze, man and beast flee from the flames; from their home. We know help is a-coming, but until then the inferno rages on. Grey smoke plumes in the sky; it's a sign of times a-coming, of times gone. We know the end is coming, He is coming again, not too long.
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