Whispers in the Pines

The city lights, they fade behind us in the rearview

glass. Just two souls on a winding road, a

silent snowy pass. Oh, the cabin calls us in

from the biting bitter cold. Whispers in the pines, old friend,

a story to unfold. No blaring bells, no frantic rush.

Just firelight on rough-hewn wood. The wind outside, a gentle hush underneath the star-strewn

hood. Oh, the cabin calls us in from the biting

bitter cold. Whispers in the pines, old friend,