Snow
The state of the world does loom,
But above the clouds all bloom.
With their precious gift,
Provided by lift,
They kiss my face
With their frozen lace;
And it feels so sincere.
Snow
The state of the world does loom,
But above the clouds all bloom.
With their precious gift,
Provided by lift,
They kiss my face
With their frozen lace;
And it feels so sincere.