The day the sky cracked in half,
We didn't flinch; we knew it was coming.
The old man with the big brown dog,
You said, "Sir, he, he'd heard the warning."
Toast to the newlywed, petrified bride,
White-knuckled grip; toes keep tapping,
Silently praying for a change in the tide
To dry this place up and keep her from drowning.
Stay up all night in ice hotels;
Frostbite grip leaves a story to tell.
Love got lost in that ice hotel,
Under bearskin rugs.
The end is all on which we can depend.
Twisted stomachs over things we don't care for.
It still burns to know that they're gone,
The hot-blooded nights you know you'll still pine for.