Sanoja: The New York Room. Frost At Midnight.

when you are with me
I feel alone
a candle burning
against the sun

I try to pull away
to try and reclaim
my indentity
my own name

so cold
when you are near
if only we never?

an icicle in December
so cold, so cold

the plume or the feather
the promise or lie
the bramble or heather
the do or die

I am lost to you
but I am found where
the horizon meets the sky

I lived for you
but I am bound
to let those feelings die

so cold
you must be near

not to feel
anything
or just to feel
something at all

since you have gone away
I still feel the same
with no one to hurt
no one to blame

so cold
without you here
why didnt we ever?

an icicle in December
so cold, so cold