Texty: Enya. Exile.

:
Cold as the northern winds
In December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings
From this far distant shore.

Winter has come too late
Too close beside me.
How can I chase away
All these fears deep inside?

[Chorus:]
I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

[Chorus]

Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams - a boat
I will sail home to you.