Cold as the northern winds in Decem - ber morn - ings, Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore. Win - ter has come too late too close be - side me. How can I chase away all these fears deep inside? 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 o - cean. My guide the morning star as I sail home to you. Who then can warm my soul? Who can quell my pas - sion? I will sail home to you.