Из альбома: Beacons

I took the bus down Bathurst Street and saw where
All the lonely people meet down there
I sat on a pile of cigarettes and blew

Icicles with one sharp breath towards you

There's black ice, no sign

Temper me and temper this I've tried
To fit in everything in a small time
The winter brings a heaviness, this weight
Is a hand over the things I shouldn't say

There's black ice, no sign

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