The tickle of the raging wind against my nose,
The chill it sends up my spine.
Like an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic,
I feel as though my hair is going to fall off.
In the amazing cold, which I cannot escape.
The tickle of the raging wind against my nose,
The chill it sends up my spine.
Like an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic,
I feel as though my hair is going to fall off.
In the amazing cold, which I cannot escape.