I've found shivering cold embeds,

Under skin like slivers and nail heads,

The snow has piled up outside the doors,

And the entire world is a hooked fishing lure

We're being reeled in by the mouth,

I find it hard to breathe the air,

Lord knows this just isn't fair.

When all these times have come and gone,

When near is short and far is long,

There is a simple song,

A slowly beating heart,

And this is where we start.

It comes time to cook the little fish,

The details of my favorite dish,

And for the first time he saw the day,

But there was nothing that he could say,

That parabola of life has endured,

When pulled out to the mucky shore,

And there is not a single spoken word.