Outside it is snowing
Pretty long and pretty hard
I stop and think of Ishmael
And how the color white is evil
The walls are slowly eating
All they fall upon
I take my leather gloves off
The ocean is white
Is is filled fish
The sky is so blue
It is made of wings
I sit beside the fire
When I try to sleep again
I stop and think of Ishmael
And how the color white is evil
The walls are slowing eating
All that's in the room
I close my eyes and drift off
Well the ocean is white
It is filled with fish
The sky is so blue
It is made of wings
It is made of wings
It is made of wings