Fear Of Good - The Hotelier

Skin, caked with sap of pine,

can’t catch against my roaring mind.

The coat slips off my etched spine.

It’s a weight no longer carried

and I’m freezing.

A message to my brother sky,

I long to hold your hand tonight

but when up against this summit’s height

I’m tense, I’m small, I’m speechless

and I’m freezing.