Beneath the frozen lake, something is writhing within. Perhaps more furiously so precisely because the surface is frozen. The life of the lake is not yet ice.
The life of the lake is not yet ice.
Start a fire, start a fire.
At the centre of it all.
Let it burn, let it burn.
The life of the lake is not yet ice.
What is writhing and writhing furiously?
What is struggling, what is strangling?
What is struggling to believe?
What is struggling to live?
The life of the lake is not yet old.
Scream, as loud as you can,
As loud as you will, scream.