Winter Has Come

Gloomy faces peeping at dawn,
Strangled thoughts and hand on head,
On streets they stand and fawn;
Trying to gain their daily bread.

Do they deserve this strange life?
The scattered lies, on the mutilated path,
Demons standing with their knives,
Forgotten crimes, the king's wrath .

Oh with a sickening glance of a frail
Old eye, clasping hands waiting for doom,
Impending or not forgotten in the ale;
Many a flower in the desert bloom.

The white walkers they hum,
They hum that winter has come.