The cold
It rips the skin from my face
And leaves a blue and icy taste

The trees are beckoning for something warm
As the leaves curl dry, from their branch they're torn

It burns your chest and swells your lungs
My hair is lit up by white golden sun

Eyes are stinging dripping ice
And fingers feel like they're caught in a vice

The days are limited; my time is short
The coldness seeps thru the coat I bought

And to think we go through this each year
Makes the warmest tear drip into fear