The night poured snow, like a tattered moon pillow
A disco of stars, on the city of boulders.
Fear the white whisper, it leaves no trace
With a glimmering knife in hand, sneaking among the houses...
He won't come back, Do not wait. The steam freezes breath,
He's halfway in the path of, oncoming headlights.
He crosses the world, along beds of noisy rivers,
Like tunnels of black holes, through the melancholy snow..
The diamond pollen of, a fading flower dream,
is wasted endlessly, in city squares.
And from her to him, running across the earth,
it seems so easy, to follow white snow.