The back of his hand feels like my father finally coming home
I hope you cry for me one day,
The way I cried for you.
A girl with snow on her lip once told me that life was an illusion.
At first I believed the snow created an altered reality.
So in need of an escape I took the pile from the end of her key.
Somehow the snow made a home in my body.
Perhaps thats why my soul is so cold.