the end is near
and yet we can see the line
i wonder, do you hear?
the whispers so fine

softly the thickness coats the town
fluffy and white in all its glory
in the coldness, we drown
waiting for the ending of the story

it’s supposed to be a special time
of peace and quiet and love
yet you don’t quite get my rhyme
it’s a season for the glove

the bitterest of the days
the coldest of nights
the parting of ways
the ending of fights

what a strange winter way
what a strange winter day