oh, I'm sorry, Phil said weeks.
This cold and dark have frozen
all my sorrow to my cheeks.
When the sun returns I'm sure
my smile will do the same.
The gentle winds will call me;
now they're calling out your name.
My hands are cold and there's no chance
of ever getting warm,
The rain will come but first we'll weather
multitudes of storms.
The lake with our reflections will
release the blackened ice-
we saw ourselves together once,
or maybe it was twice.
Till spring, each day will start the same
and end the same way, too.
I'm just trying to stay warm
and find my way to you.
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