The wind is never
as cold as the waiting
in the darkest days of winter
all the wishes wasted
our optimistic youth and
powers of invincibility
fleeting with our patience
we are statues in the falling snow
we are statues in the falling snow
listening for the banshee brakes
and the guttural purr of diesel gas
to carry us through the blackened snow
amidst a storm of CB static
disembodied voices resonate
as if inside a rusted coffee can
telling us where we are
where we are going and
where we will never again return
where we will never again return
