The dripping taps unnerving stare
Conducting songs I'll never share
Cross my mind
Accompaniment to a charred Kettles whine
Is a cold and real awesome sign
I still Find

Friends aren't waiting
Contemplating
Or concerned in
My returning

Winters frost turns my fingers white;
Fog that stirs and blurs my sight
Shrouds the Town
The darkened shadow to whom I talk
As catacomb like streets I walk
Weigh me down

Earths illuminated centuries
Can't enlighten penetentiaries

Dropping coins that seem to laugh
The morning's milk guards the Path
Shows the sign
Eight by Ten on the second floor
Fumes that creep beneath the door
End my time