An icicle feast for my watery eyes;
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lacing, swirling and floating.
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An ice castle for us to live in, come on,
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we're holding hands under our palace of snow.
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Soft hushed breath it goes in and out, in and out
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Frost tracing the window pane up and down, up and down.
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Pale blue frosted cakes for us to feed on,
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bright eyes always shining always glowing.
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Icicles hanging from our fingertips.
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Soft hushed breath it goes in and out, in and out
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Frost tracing the window pane up and down, up and down
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Follow the crystal air to the snowflake village
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where people made of gumdrops greet you;
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Merry mornings Mr. Pine.
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Mister Pine (Live at The Troubadour)
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| Eisley |
