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Oh, so fucking cold. |
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The winds, the drifts of winter, |
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Bonechilling nightfall. |
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Early evening sundowns |
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Make nights seem more like borealis dreams. |
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My roots run deep, through veins, my ancestry. |
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Everything I know, in body and soul. |
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Lakeland. |
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Look to the river rushing, |
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Unparalleled its power. |
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It carves away at the land. |
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Eroding the banks, consuming the sands |
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And washes away to her majesty. |
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They say, there's no other place like home, and they said it best. |
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I've realized what this place means to me, Lakeland. |
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I can see my reflection in the land, I see my form. |
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And I know the land reflects in my self. |
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It reflects in my self |
