Happiest Lion
How We Mourned, in the Winter
You could catch a cold, dearI am scared out loud from the kitchen stoveIn my frantic stateI am overwhelmed, you are blue to your chestAlrightYou're fineYou are all too young to give it upI am not afraid, dearShe weeps to herself in the corridorWhile the night brings snowfallYou crawl to your bed in a vulnerable fitAlrightYou're not fineHow the progress eludesIn our violent pursuitQuiet as the cold graveIs the house in its sound, in the afternoonWhile fire does not warm oneWe pay our dues from the living room floor
From Letras Mania