She walks along through winters gale seeking revenge upon her thoughts.
She hears her lowly masters hail But wishes to not re-enter her box
Through wind and snow and drifts and drops She lowers her head and seeks tomorrow
These chains, these weights, all bolts, all locks Can only be loosed by freedoms sorrow.
To press on straight or turn back soon Decisions that can't be made with haste
Forward she moves, flowing like a flume Knowing she surely won't find the place
The light is near the dark is close
But she doesn't know what she wants the most.
