Enya - ExileCold is the northern winds in December mornings,Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore.winter has come too late. too close beside 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 ocean.My guide the morning star as I sail home to youI'll wait the signs to come. I'll find a way.I will wait the time to come. I'll find a way home.who then can warm my soul? who can quell my passion?out of these dreams -- a boat. I will sail home to you.