One cold midnight Holding memories W hen I awaken there's a street light, vision of light I saw a snow showering a girl, She trembled by snow on wee hours, she escaping from frigid cold on warm light, Her drops of cry brought the Arctic igloos, A little finger wiped her picky nose , Wrinkling her drenched eyes on the ferocious winds, Her hair swaying in the wind to be in front, Her painful memories did not linger in the bustling air, Who's she? Could h...
The solitude, the agony, the horror of dying - it's the way things are .