My great fear from where it comes? And where it goes out, I don't know. It's look like sand in a bosom. It's look like burning hair. My great fear from where it comes And where it goes out, I don't know. May be the north wind brings it with itself And maybe I'm a tree And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate. It's look like sand in a bosom. It's look like burning hair. Maybe I drink it with water running from my vein. And maybe I'm a tree And maybe I'm fate, I'm fate.