"Can I borrow a blanket, there's a chill in the air that won't subdue.  Frosty windows give view to a blistering storm and chances of clearing anytime soon are remote.  The lonely don't need to be cold as well, lest they **** over altogether and parish into the frothy dust.  Blue lips that can't kiss away your pain, await at deaths door, with a blank stare of horror.  Toss it this way baby, before the fate of it all, falls upon you."