Verse 1 Winter’s back. The frost and blizzards calling, The crunchy snow is sparkling ‘neath the feet. A violin—with tones so soft and falling— Plays by the curb, out on a lively street. Chorus A symphony of bliss sounds through the twilight, The bow takes flight and circles overhead. The age of grace is fading, softly slight, With clumsy words, it slips away instead. Verse 2 The storm is raging, groaning in its vigor, The whirlwinds sweep our fragile works away. We lose our will within the strings that trigger, As old beliefs pull us back into play. Verse 3 January sweeps with stinging snow in motion, To cloak the weary planet in its grace. The blizzard swirls again in fresh devotion, Passing the relay to winds in endless chase.
