Wind in my face
A cold white blanket
That seems to erase
All the life in this town
All the thoughts in my head
And yet as I sit here
On top of my bed
I can’t close my eyes
I can’t fall asleep
Despite my desire of
A good rest to reap
While Dave goes on singing
My mind is consumed
With thoughts of what’s happening
Outside of my room
Will the snow really reach
Up to two-point-six feet?
And is he, in fact,
Really thinking of me?
The snow keeps on falling
The wind still blows on
And I hope soon I’ll be
Fast asleep, dreaming on.
TL
2:30am
8 January 2005
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