This house roofed with snow
Brings my mood up from a low
This still dark place still stir things up within
Just to stand here and listen elevates a grin
I pound my hands through the snow
Red small marks from every blow
It stings, I don't like it, I'd rather be inside
My devotion always fades away after a while
I hear many things due to my senses
They're sharp, too sharp, I don't hear anything good
Mostly my heart, the beating of a clock
I lay down in the snow then I roll over
But as the Air is getting colder
I head back home in the pace of my heart
Wish I could get one whole day without my
Timekeeping heart