The last of the snow melting
the barn roof still dusted with it...

Museums full of art
windows, stained glass...

Twisted heaps of steaming metal
blood-speckled concrete looking industrially...

The open fields
The crisp air...

Blurring lines of purple and blue
Coldplay seems to match the winter...

Twisted treasure
Burning ashes...

Flurries of snow, flickering 'cross the road.
Stars like angel eyes in the darkness above...

The gate stood open, reaching
Out into the still darkness...

Down in the dumps
Like the shadows upon the ceiling...

I'm smart
Intelligent...

All eloquence faltering
Composure slipping...

Skies of blue
Skies of gold...