Its cold and snows actually on the ground
of this no-snow town,
and instead of cars
the streets trafficking in sleds.
Men become boys again
Theres a war on the corner
with no guaranteed winner.
Its just a snowfall of snowballs
evidence of the winter.
And I can feel my hands again.
Were almost home.
Its 2 PM and our snow is falling still
as our good city lay still.
And our friends are packed
around some no smoking bar
warming on alcohol.
We step into the silence,
yeah, we step slowly and quiet.
All boys come on and girls join up,
just dont grow old.
All boys come on and girls join up,
were almost home.
This is all we want:
Time to be with us,
a home to lift the cold.
Still cold, the snows turning into rain
and melting away.
And all these days slip by us,
so lets keep them.
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