Up to watch the snow fall
Brack bones, cold and still
Home is an old, old picture
Sleep by my window sill

After drinks are over
We can tread back home
Help me make odd noises
String my heart with gold

I'm convinced this is something I've been waiting for

I feel the rust in my bones
Sculptor, my bolts came loose
My words sound out of tune
Without my noisy cues

Ideas, displayed ambition
Reputation is on the line
I'll try to make this happen
10 more years gone by