Snow

Read this about snow somewhere:

It's been pissed out of rats, it's evaporated from the skin of the dead, flowed downs the shit-filled river, and at the end of it all, sucked up into the air and showered down on us. It's the sum of every dirty creature that's ever lived.

Yet still so pure?

a) Looks can be deceiving. Nature just proved it.

b) White is not necessarily pure. Suck it, racists.

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Smile on repeat

I'll be high on your smile,

If you'd only let it extend a mile,

Slowly let it tip-toe into your cheek,

And off your dimple, let it leak.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

Come on, fair boy,

Play your demeanor a tad coy,

Loosen that brittle,

And smile a little.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

Bridge: If you'd try to put that smile

in your wallet,

I can bet,

I can promise you,

that it'll say, "no can do"

Baby, my billionaire,

Do that thing, that makes me stare.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

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Perhaps.

Perhaps I should let it all go,

watch you like a performing art.

Art is so abstract

it won't change its way.

It's the power of a label,

a catalyst to digestion:

a crutch by you,

a faint placebo

letting you last.

Then you can without restriction,

like a bird spread your wings,

play out our colour.

It will atleast look beautiful like a rainbow,

just out of order.

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