Frigid

This place is ice water.
If we were ice cubes we’d shake

                                                                I see the ocean everywhere I look now
                                                                And it looks the way that sand feels in between my toes,
                                                                It’s too hot for my liking here.

But you.  Well, that’s another story.
You’re right and that’s why the sky is blue.
                                                               
                                                                That train don’t stop here no more.

We are the mirror and the reflection,
looking at each other through stone walls
That laugh at our fragility and stupidity. 
                                                                Your fear smells like cigarette smoke,
                                                                gone in the same kind of wispy cloud.

She’s going to keep singing, whether you want her to or not.
There’s a bleeding voice behind that smile
Like John’s dying gasp that night in the New York cold.