My mind's at home here in this cold November breeze. This frost, it stabs my skin, and grays the branches of these trees. My breath is a ghost as it wafts
: My mind's at home here in this cold November breeze. This frost, it stabs my skin, and grays the branches of these trees. My breath is a ghost as it
My mind's at home here in this cold November breeze. This frost, it stabs my skin, and grays the branches of these trees. My breath is a ghost as it
