I am the sound of winter
With the smell of spring...

There's detoxification in the initiation,
You're cold and cold you'll stay...

I could lay asleep or wide awake,
Regretting choices that I make...

Welcome to the inner world;
where moving forward...

Bright behind the boulevard where the broken...
Mosquito's find their long lost wings and circle...

Like a puppet turned out to pasture,
Strings too stretched and frayed to hold...

There's a gap between the desk and draw
Where the forgets lay resting on the floor...

I asked you what could be more romantic;
you read me a newspaper clipping of an intimate...

I'm staring at my bedroom window,
Watching the morning rays float through...

Leave certainty for the physicists,
for the academics to discuss...

Covered in ivory clouds that the wind steals,
Selling to drought at a criminal price...

The expected takes form in roses of red,
Shielded, caged by a garden bed...