In the House of Baba Yaga Lyrics

It's hunting time
A ball falls to the ground
Build a fire like Jack London's
When November ends
And the Artic winds cut down
Slumber til the snow melts
And you cannot just pretend
Sure we're all alone
In a house made out of
Broken bones on chicken legs
That run

So write your name
With a finger in the frost
Waiting, waiting for the holidays
Waiting, waiting for the holidays