Verse 1:
Hardly sleeping in this tent built on ice
howls of the wolves are filling the night
Feeling the enemy descending on him
But son of tundra never gives in

Chorus:
Running away from the sun
Trying to find the one
that wants him dead
Their friendship so warm
has turned to a war
So the icicle at the skirt of his tent
is his last friend

Verse 2:
Never weeping for the things that happen
accepting all things as they arise
True hunter waits for the storm to come
And then raises his axe and runs to the fight