Exile

[C#m]Cold [A]as the [E]northern [B]winds

In D[C#m]ecemb[A]er [Abm]mornin[E]gs,

[C#m]Cold [A]is the [E]cry that [B]rings

From this [A]far d[Abm]istant s[C#m]hore.

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

[C#]I'll [Bbm]wait the [F#]signs [Ab]to c[C#]ome.

[Bbm]I'll [F#maj7]find a [Ab]way

[C#]I will [Bbm]wait the [F#]time [Ab]to c[C#]ome.

[Bbm]I'll [F#maj7]find a [Ab]way [C#]home.

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

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

[C#m]: xx2120 or x46654