Their whiskers were transparent
Funny how I cut some
Fluffy their furs are
Oh those sleeping li'l ones.

Heat strokes each other
Not the negative one
Enduring the cold day
Pleading the sun to strike.

Eyes are stones
Luxuric, melted with every grip
Oh the cold breeze
Washin' their fears away
Mama would come darlings,
Stay put and let not the bugs bite.