Material Castle

I think that when the season comes around,
I better hide underground, away from the sound,
The cold burns my teeth, from the snowflakes,
Where do I turn, where do I get warm,
How do seek all the heat from the storm,

My patience is running thin,
My eyes are slightly trimmed,
From my mouth to your ears you don't how to find fear,

Bury me in the white, frozen tundra,
A blanket of snow with a pillow of leaves,
My empty bed fashioned,
Never again will I search for my lover,

Feed the white, give into the night,
In full tantalizing effect, as they gather,
Watch them all collect,
Listen to the soft singing of the insects,

My patience is running thin,
My eyes are slightly trimmed,
From my mouth to your ears you don't how to find fear.