The cold of the air cutting your lungs as you breathe - could be seen as a harsh deed, especially when you can no longer be freed and you are frozen so you can no longer bleed: consequences to which none has taken heed. Once you were a cheerful boast, but now the cold has pierced your soul and you are a ghost. Imagine pain itself is frozen, and that's what hurts the most; for the cold is so much so that you feel cooked like roast. Diagnosed a winter wind dose - we are enthralled to the gusts of the host. The bond that bonds the bonded to the morbid is horrid. The weather is so chilled that it is torrid. And paradoxes are made real and play on like a movie reel; as it turns it stutters as if it was an improper wheel made of clumps of steel. So even though our pain is frozen, it teaches us how to feel. Seal a deal that would peel away our soul and would steal our hopes at control; our hopes that the steel wheel would roll; our hopes that the Winds could freeze over and cover this hole. But hope is for the weak; hope is what turns your other cheek; hope is the reason why we regret; hope is the reason why we hope to forget; hope is for the socially accepted - and hope is also for those rejected. Well then reject hope as it will trully reject you - embrace Winter Winds' colours as your new hue. Pain held us back so we now have a new drive... Winter Winds is the cold lung cutting air that keeps us alive.