O, winter.
A force I cannot fight...

How do you suppose I dispose of this thing?
A disguise I despise so incredibly...

A dark spirit called ignorance
has painted my heart black...

Paper clip hairstyles
born-again saints...

We, sheeted mummies
in a shade of quilted patches...

Withered and lonely
Wanting arms to hold me...

As I stroll in the night
The street lights spotlighting...

Into my bedrooom
I crawl into bed...