It snowed in Phoenix,
The winds smelled like a nostalgic candle,
In the middle of a crowd,
Dogs barked fearing the sky was falling,
And old timers were either smiling,
Or judging onlookers,
Because it reminded them of where then ran,
Chimneys rose with fireplace's pride,
They knew this day would come,
Cars scratched down freeways of people,
Lost,
Because they forgot where they were,
They themselves knew that they didn't know where they were going anyhow,
The dead rose, or turned over,
Depending,
On what Christmas song was playing,
The poets and the painters alike broke tools,
Because nature beat them too it-
Again,
It snowed in Phoenix today,
And the world decided to burn,
Time to put up those Christmas Lights.

The lights in Beijing,
They are trying to imitate the stars,
Their falsehoods only ring true with the right song,
They only loose their deception in fake smiles,
And long standing words,
That have only little meaning left,
The waves in honolu,
Are trying to be the calming breath,
They only loose their depth,
When you cant believe your back at smitty's again,
When you see your last 5 spot,
And you know where it's going,
They can't calm you to sleep anymore,
The mountains in Denver are wanting to be Gods,
But they loose their glory in giant snow storms,
That make you feel like your fingers itch and numb,
Their Godhood is called into question when she won't wake up in bathroom stall,
And when you can't see the stars,
The heated wind in Phoenix,
Wants to be your warm blanket,
It just looses it's luster when you want to open your eyes to who you are,
When you can't breathe because of looks from far away people in far away minds,
And if you just need that cigarette to put the day behind you

The lights in Beijing shine true,
When the right song comes on,
And their glow is the hope that's left,

The waves in ol' Honolu breathe calm,
When you decide to go home,
And see your hopeful tomorrow,
Waves

The Mountains in Denver,
Are paying Godly attention,
When the sun comes a shining,
And remind you exactly where you are at,
The whisper,
It's exactly where you need to be

The hot windy days in Phoenix,
Show their comfort,
Dancing with dust and spinning with leaves,
The love of life always around,
And no matter where you are,
You just might be home.

Sympathetic empathas saying words,
That are read from a script,
No one knew how to write,
It's early and cars,
Driving to,
Another paid bill,
Or whatever Thomas said,
Expierences fulfilled by fuel,
Maybe they aren't driving,
Or drinking,
might just be,
making babies in the,
Basement,
Or whatever Keats said,
Distantly dancing,
To kindergarteners and,
cancer patients,
Just another Thursday,
With mystic music,
Lofting around,
The empty dance halls,
Falling up,
With Christopher Robbins,
To the stars,
The bus is on time
Or whatever Dylan said.