Somewhere in the cold
there’s a man who’s warm
but it’s not me
He breathes fire
and spits ice
He knows which way to go
but when I ask for directions
he just laughs
while I wonder–
if he knows which path to take
why is he sitting so still
there’s a man who’s warm
but it’s not me
He breathes fire
and spits ice
He knows which way to go
but when I ask for directions
he just laughs
while I wonder–
if he knows which path to take
why is he sitting so still
