Frederick`s Frost — текст песни (Squirtgun)

He`s sitting frozen with mud on his feet in Indiana
And his blue skin plays a January song
His mind a-wanders to the sunshine he`s been missing in the white room.

She stared at his brisket eyes so long
A lonely snowman, he figures and he calculates her body
And life`s brevity assures him that it won`t last long.

He`s got days
Days and says
Iceman fight in my head
Frederick`s Frost

He thinks about her lovely nametag as he shivers by the birdbath
Bromide poison concentrated dull
He`s got lots of pictures of her he could show you,
but he has concroid pitches in his skull

Turned loose from the cage.
He`s a lion with an illness
And every rose he touches folds and turns to glass.