Cold as the northern winds in December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore.

Winter [bad word] to lay too close beside me.
How can I chase away all this fears deep inside?

I'll wait the signs [bad word] 
I'll find a way.
I will wait the time [bad word] 
I'll find a way home.

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the Morning Star
As I sail home to you.

I'll wait the signs [bad word] 
I'll find a way.
I will wait the time [bad word] 
I'll find a way home.

Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams abode
I will sail home to you.