A cold shoulder and impassive face.
You were in some dry northern town
as I mowed fences in a southern state.
It was piles of thick tall grass
but I was paving my way.
What brought you to this land?
You went on a whirlwind tour,
turned everything to ashes,
but I survived the fire tongues.
You left with a rather telling face
as heat waves dried up your shoulder.
Alas, we were trapped in your cold
and we never saw the sun again.
