In the pinnacle of my pride
In the blow of my overthrow
In the polar vortex of my heart
In the coup of my embrace
In the wanting to be held
In the snow-covered woods
Where the icy river rushes
As if to get away from me
As if meeting a friend now enemy
On the bridge above the torrent
Now one of us must go
In the iron-work of the railing
In the standing above the world
In the softness of the snow
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