There's a cold and icy spotnIn the middle of the seanWhen our ships pass in the nightnThey have to stop eventuallynnAnd all our passengers climb out nClimb out the windows and doorsnTo stop and stand upon the icenTo find that face they'd seen beforennAnd though I've never seen these shipsnI've seen your facennFollow, I could follow younOnly under some disguisenIf I followed all your dandelions nThen who would look over mine?nnThere's some comfort in the snownLike an invitationnBut there's a stillness in the coldnIt gives reservationnnAnd the ice is not the groundnAnd this place is not my homennAnd though I've never seen these shipsnI've been alonennFollow, I could follow younOnly under some disguisenIf I followed all your dandelions nThen who would look over mine?