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lyrics

Red Snow, sweet Hot Snow,
give into your paradox.
Melting straight into steam.
Melting straight into steam.

Exhale your communist father
up on my apartment roof.
A warm endless winter solstice
to prove my superhuman curse.

When my roots dug into the ground,
you helped me pry them out
and fed me strips of newspaper
dipped in a cup of turpentine.

At night you'd cry sanguine snowflakes
and I'd be awake to lick them up.
Your smallpox scar I tried to crystallize.
I couldn't help but feel like I was draining
you.

Red Snow, sweet Hot Snow,
we'd communicate in song lyrics
written on bits of paper
you hid all around my room.

It was sonnet 73
the night you started shrinking,
"I love you like a Beatles song,
but not an Elliott Smith song."

All those words I can't pronounce
written on a paper lantern
and sent out on that frozen lake,
before bursting into flakes
and swirling around your waist
and falling up
to your
pink moon.

Red Snow, sweet Hot Snow,
soft, inverted mountain tops,
making love in puddles on the floor,
pink puddles on the hardwood foor.

All those pixelated sunflower particles
couldn't prove to me you've just shrunk to small to see.
The only person that I'm close to
soon will melt into a thick pink mist.

Your pink fog flickers weakly,
because you just felt too much.
I'll try not to hate you from the leaves,
when I become a pile of dead leaves...

Red Snow, sweet Hot Snow,
give into your paradox.
Melting straight into steam.
Melting straight into steam.

credits

from Last Night I Dreamt Your Body Was Made of Words, released September 10, 2010

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w o o l g a t h e r i n g Paris, France

gathering wool to spin yarns.
the middle class, straight, white male blues.
@metaphornication
~~~~~~~~~~

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