something of cubical glaciers
rolling on sugar and water

we ride our big shiny ship
we have our big shiny hats

suddenly life happens
--we have lift off

Houston we have a problem
with gashes in time--

oh dear, we've hit
feelings of chilly winters

cold, cold, cold, cold
four seasons shot

by this icy slate
by this killer lack of hue

o, this world I
have grown to hate

I am a ball
pushed by a blizzard

in some direction
I don't know

so I sink into
this poor world of snow