Shivering from day to night,
Waiting for that warming light.
Winters weather doesn't help,
Stop my cold, cold shivering self.
My fingers are like icicles,
As I shove them deeper into my pockets.
I don't want to step into that pond-like puddle,
I'm so cold i practically waddle.
Running through the greenish-gray grass in my super soaked socks,
Waiting to go inside and change them.
My crooked teeth hurt every time I breath in that cold air,
They were ice cubes.
I see that winter lightning and hear that old man snoring,
It's natures frightening way of saying that its storming.
By now you should know,
to pile on those warm, fur