Zero spirits, tens of miles
The old white scenery petrified
In the silence of the arctic lakeshore
The coldness slowly reaching my core
High tension, frosty surface
A scream that shoots the distress
A cell devouring doubt
Words dying on their way out
All I can hear is the echo
Deep within, rooted tight
All I can hear is the echo
You are what you hide
Quiet grip fails to endure
Awakening the dormant obscure
A rebounding voice wasted, unheard
The reason why stays loudly unanswered
The cascading stream of questions in me
Will only be heard by these fucking trees
All I can hear is the echo
Deep within, rooted tight
All I can hear is the echo
You are what you hide
All I can hear is the echo
Deep within, rooted tight
All I can hear is the echo
You are what you hide
What you hide
What you hide
What you hide
What you hide
