Febbraio.

    And the snow falls down melts before it even hits the ground.
    And I'm standing here listening to the sound of your hand
              washing back and forth across my filthy heart.
      And i don't know if I should say "I'm sorry" or "thank you".
         I try to speak but the tears choke the words and I think
               I finally know what they mean when they talk....
                             ..about joy.


Mineral