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• Artiste: A Weather
• Titre: Seven Blankets
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Seven blankets, aren't enough to keep two hundred draughts, from getting in one bed. I'm alright, or maybe will be if you wait a hundred days to go home. I, clean up real nice. I'm sleeping straight through the night these days. I'm, dead to the the world. I'm sleeping straight, through the ice storm. Waking to another world where you don't have, to leave the house to go to work. Limited by stiffing and falling, and getting "no", shaking your head and coming back inside. We can make a fire. We have enough food saved up for weeks. And just, before the pipes froze I ran the faucet, and filled the tub. A pair of losers all ???, a tooth that's coming loose, a neck without a noose, a fire in the chute, the crinkle of the newspaper lighting up. I know now it's time for bringing back the world (???) because you were stung like we were cured by your distaste (???) two were trying to be true and forgiving.