Looks Like Styrofoam
You may rest assured.
Though it's cold
and the sidewalks are dirty and blurred.
I got dreams of my own to observe,
although they seldom reoccur.
I'll wrap myself up,
drop my last few coins into somebody's cup.
Well, the label is usually lost,
but I am not giving up.
Cause when I met you in Communion Square,
there was something in your hair,
that looked like Styrofoam.
Oh, it seems we may finally get some snow.
With that we'll bury fall.
Walk around, while cursing at the shopping malls.
Pull the pant leg of night 'til
it calls for us to forget it all.
But I'll remember you, dear.
As I stare at the ceiling/down into the beer.
Make lists of the friends who reappeared,
and the best records of the year.
And though it seems we may be getting too old,
stick your tongue out in the cold.
Then you'll surely know
 that tonight we'll finally get some snow.