The wind blows icy and the pages ripple making it hard to write on my whithered soul
Don’t know how much more of this bloody boring cold I can stand
It’s frequently difficult to get through
Chilled fingers press on to reach the end, striving for purpose and definition where there is none
Blue is splattered with brown, not even sorrow goes un tainted
Indecribable scribbles can be heard through my purple wheathered fingertips
Four toes sneak silently off into the night never to be loud again
Twee-twee-twee I can’t stand any more of the laughting at me just because I’m up a tree without a spork
Driving by they stair because they haven’t got a ramp to grab onto
I won’t lend them mine
Don’t know what you’re in for until it’s too soon
Fill her up before you freeze or I’ll freeze you, whichever comes first
Endless tapping, endless tipping
Swaying in a frosty breeze so cold it could melt a popcicle in the spring
Grass should save me but she’s just too weak from the frost’s pressure
I can hear his crowing from down the street on the wind
I’m getting out, I’m getting down
It’s bloody cold, can’t stand the singing