I lay my head down on my pillow
          it is soft and down, a sheeps underbelly
I can't help but to whisper to the stars
          "how is the weather up there? come down here."
There's a breeze knocking on my window
          it wants to lie by my side and share warmth
A bit of snow catches in the drifts on the sills
          i can become a snowflake whenever i'd like
They tell me that the world isn't good anymore
          they tell me that i can't play god like I used to
I look up at the ceiling
          *and i let go....