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Description
If only words were made of snow,
And when we spoke each flake would flow
Landing softly at our feet,
And covering the gray concrete.

However, even if our words were snow,
In my heart deep down I know.
That the bitter wind would blow,
And those soft words like snowballs would grow.
Until every whisper that I made,
Sent my friends to early graves,

Words unlike birds,
Once let out cannot be caged.
And unlike warm clothes can't be frayed,
In your head they can endlessly be replayed.
Words made of ice,
Sharper than any blade,
Cut deeper than any knife could
And christen the snow with the blood of the slain.

So maybe it's best that words be caught on the wind,
And taken where they wont offend.

Description
If only words were made of snow,
And when we spoke each flake would flow
Landing softly at our feet,
And covering the gray concrete.

However, even if our words were snow,
In my heart deep down I know.
That the bitter wind would blow,
And those soft words like snowballs would grow.
Until every whisper that I made,
Sent my friends to early graves,

Words unlike birds,
Once let out cannot be caged.
And unlike warm clothes can't be frayed,
In your head they can endlessly be replayed.
Words made of ice,
Sharper than any blade,
Cut deeper than any knife could
And christen the snow with the blood of the slain.

So maybe it's best that words be caught on the wind,
And taken where they wont offend.