Turn your heads away from slumber.

The weary court won’t hold your gaze.

Glitters shining, all surrounding

​six miles under the river drowning.

Bobbing up to always fall back down

​wearing the thin mid-winter’s crown.

Not knowing who, forgot our name.

Moving through places in the strangest ways.

And all I know

​is there’s some things I left in the snow,

​forgotten in the passing days,

​buried and will not decay.

Well there goes my brain.

I’m dying slowly.

Six miles down,

​northward bound.

I’m your shadow.

Turn your heads up to the water.

See no light pierces the river.

This hydra is lost inside,

​dragging its claws along the bottom.

And all I know

​is there’s somе things I left in the snow.

I’m your shadow,

​forgotten in thе passing days,

​buried and will not decay.

Well there goes my brain.

I’m dying slowly.

Six miles down,

​here I drown,

​northward bound.