...

The wind round here is wicked cold
But my story nearly told
I fear the morning will bring quite a frost

And so I've left my home
I drift from land to land
I am upon your step and you are a family man
Outside the voltures wheel
The wolves howl, the serpents hiss
And to extend this small favor, friend
Would be the sum of earthly bliss
Do you reckon me a friend?

The sun to me is dark
And silent as the moon
Do you, sir, have a room?
Are you beckoning me in?