There's an empty field at night,
a distant village glows
and then a lone owl spreads his wings.
On a winter's night there's never a day more lonely than this,
on an empty field there is nothing but cold,
the sky shows nowhere is any use,
there is nowhere to hide,
there's nowhere to go.
There is no sign of the moon,
there's no path to go,
only the empty field;
everywhere is empty,
it is never sunny again,
it is never safe to be left alone again;
it's a deathly cold.
This is where the real world ends.
