Giggle and grime, He passes a touch of winter
and I cut up a line of snow,
White splinters pouring from his angelic skin.
As i feel his float above.
My skin, my eyes, my lips, my time
Merges with him
Merge with him
As I feel that touch of sleet,
coursing up above my feet through the cracking veins.
A blackened mind,
I feelthe sane,
Have no sense of time or how to spend it.
For I feel no content,
My man above me, In folded dollar bills or common sense.
I need no other, for he holds me well.
This touch of winter will bring me dame near hell.