When the summer night has changed its warmer breezes to the icy cold of silent winter freezes, will you be there?
When the flowers in the windows of the neighbors start to bow their frozen heads and to leave us, will I see you there?
Will you stand by me against the cold night,
Or are you afraid of the ice?
Afraid of the ice?
Ice.
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Good stuff, huh? I didn't write it. John Palumbo did.
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