of north of north stars
john maus
and in this city that i hate
i don't make sense to anyone
what wonders the night can hold in the cold?
can there be inspiration without the snow-covered wandering streets gently moonlit?
chimneys and frost-covered window panes
the snowless winter is living death
breathing out air without seeing your breath
and i'm stupid and foolish
sunny palm trees are creepy and ghoulish
i hate myself more than anyone else in the city
and it soothes me to know most of them will be dead
in a hundred years of snowless winters
and in this city that i hate
i don't make sense to anyone
what wonders the night can hold in the cold?
can there be inspiration without the snow-covered wandering streets gently moonlit?
chimneys and frost-covered window panes