A taste of rattling nerves,
An achy winter storm.
With cold blood set to boil
But the simmer never comes.
A gift of quaking fingertips.
A curse of mirthful smile.
With pleas of certainty unheard,
Lay morose for quite a while.
A taste of rattling nerves,
An achy winter storm.
With cold blood set to boil
But the simmer never comes.
A gift of quaking fingertips.
A curse of mirthful smile.
With pleas of certainty unheard,
Lay morose for quite a while.