Cold is the wind  of my last words, 
Blown from the lips of [bad word] Trite is the weight of a farewell'
I've fallen through the looking glass again

I'm far from, I'm far from home 
Leaning on the gale of the storm 
I'm facing, I'm facing fire 
Fleeing from the pains [bad word] right

Sad are the sorrows of the proud 
The words to their [bad word] ringing out 
Rough is the road of my return 
Traveled at the length of some year's end