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