Alaska went wal­king, down to the sea,
her hair waving gently, for all to see.

It´s a sad and beau­ti­ful world”, she said,
“It can make you cry in the blink of an eye.”

I hold her cold hand and tou­ched her white cot­ton,
ever­y­thing i mis­sed about her wasn´t forgotten.

There might be a way, through the woods towards north,
but there won´t be a tale wit­hout marks of scorch.”