There's a long cold pass through the looking glass, out across the snow
Meant to stare past the tides of a fallen tribe, beyond the row
There's a tow-haired boy with a broken toy, aching to be freed
There's a bone-chilled wind that sweeps the road, from roof peak to the trees. Wait for the bracing tone of my footsteps out along the stone- alone

As I wait for truth, a whispering page of wands e'er to approach
And still I wait for you, as we pray for truce
wait not for every movement canonical

There's a long cold pass through the looking glass, snatched by the crow
Our blind despair waits by the stairs, from so long ago
Crouched still at the door, neath the creaking floor, clutched by the deed
Behind closed eyes to weigh the price of wanting against need.
Wait for the bracing tone of my footsteps out along the stone- alone

As I wait for truth, a whispering page of wands e'er to approach
And still I wait for you, as we pray for truce
wait not for every movement canonical

Something defies the senses afforded me
Some faded dream pierces our veil

And still I wait for you, As I wait for truth
a whispering page of wands e'er to approach
And still I wait for you, as we pray for truce
wait not for every movement canonical
And still I wait for you, As I wait for truth
a whispering page of wands e'er to approach
And still I wait for you, and I pray for truce
Wait not, want not, forever more"