Black Ice

i took the bus down Bathurst St. and saw where,
all the lonely people meet down there.
i sat on a pile of cigarettes and blew,
icicles with one short breath t’wards you.
there’s black ice
no sign
oooooohhh oooooohhh
and temper me temper this, ive tried,
in fit in e’vry thing in a small time.
the winter brings a heavyness this way,
so hand over the things i shouldnt say.
there’s black ice
no sign
there’s black ice
no sign