As i sit in a park of the winter's fog
i realized that smoking a *** is hard,
Carrot nosed Snow-mans  are winter scarecrows
and about the sky...The sky is sadly gray
well, so was i but i don't intend to tell you why.

As winter began to claim it's kin and mock summer
Numb i sat on a rather cold wooden bench
Facing an old sugar maple tree  
with withered branches ; veined and leafless.
Wait, let me light another *** up for the night.

The howling wind breaks the hush of the night
Like chariots ridden by desolation and grief,
while Strings  were pulled as the torched lanterns flickered,
and leaves rustle as life tumbles to strive.
This is Harmony ; Harmony staged to a lonely gathering of one.

Troubled are the minds that stay past a downcast night
like the Owl looking upon the moon that never spoke back
or the kid  weeping under an old maple tree
Strange to wonder how i relate to them.

My soul for now mortally  tormented
By the reaper who creeps upon you and i.

The reaper and his scythe  never knew
That the smallest coffins are the heaviest
The reaper and his ******* scythe never knew
i found her hanging in the living room.
Wait, I need to light another ***, it's getting colder.