Winter is here and nature is dying,
bright colors signal the grave.
The cold pains your bones as oil heats your home,
and oil companies measure their gains.
Your shovel is ready, your gloves and your boots,
you'll soon be the Michelin man.
You hunger for warmth but suffer instead, and
still do the best that you can.
Winter oh winter, please leave me alone,
I hate the way you behave.
Please let me have heat, live life on my feet,
save all of your cold for my grave.
No comments:
Post a Comment