The final snow has fallen The north wind fell silent Rushing waters awaken Yet the woods are stood Wandering ghost In the valleys On the verge speckled hills And the north awakens from winter's chill How many more glorious winters will we survive? There may only be a few Perhaps we'll never know But the answer will haunt us So ask the moss beneath the snow Perhaps we'll never know But the answer will haunt us So ask the moss beneath the snow