The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Cold Hands, Warm Pockets

If I took a walk by myself
Would I recognize me as I passed?
Would I say "hi" or catch my eye
or stride by way too fast?

I know I'm apt to pay no mind
to all the things around me
Trapped inside my thoughts I find
these things have surely bound me

I stand outside your window and
I see the light within
I know your dreams are seldom seen
I'm freezing in my skin

I know you've got no reference for
the things inside my head
Conducting a symphonic score
but this music can't be read

The rain drips from the brim of
my big, black, warm hat
My cold hands know that
warm pockets are where it's at
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