I took the bus down Barthust Street and saw where | |
all the lonely people meet down there | |
I sat on a pile of cigarettes and blew | |
icicles with one sharp breath towards you | |
There's black ice, | |
no sign | |
Temper me and temper this, I've tried | |
to fit in everything in a small time | |
The winter brings a heaviness, this weight | |
is a hand over the things I shouldn't say | |
There's black ice, | |
no sign |