Eliza Rickman
white words
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White winds blow, drifting over the inside
Cold breath flow- chill a soul on the outside
Will it slow- turn your head til it feels right
Lay it low- turn back on our heart fight
Black fog slow- crawling over the hillside
Cold words go, calling under the outside
Slain for no falling down on the inside
Lay me low- turn your back on our heart fight
Warm will glow- burn a hand on your frost bite
Down down down- make a deal with the daylight
Satellite love- hover over our hot night
Dead bones know- carry them til you feel fine