if I could know you're feeling right the fire's ash is drifting white I'd sleep so still and wide and light on this cold starless night

goodbye, although we're feeling bled the fur and ash are newly wed keep your quill, don't hide in red in that old, star lit head

the snow outside has softly set the frosted glass. A rusty fret is cheep goodwill so wild and wet take a bold Pascalian bet