Forgiveness, come down like the Reykjavík snow,
White on the rust of my name;
I wore your sorrow in rings round my eyes,
Now I return every drop as flame.
Lift the old chains from the harbor floor,
Let iron remember the wave;
If I walk the lava field quiet enough,
Maybe the stone will forgive.
Meet me where steam meets the northern lights,
Bring the cracked heart you couldn’t save;
We’ll trade our faults under midwinter white,
And bury the past in the grave.