crystalise.

The ink told me not to look straight into the sun
but I was hypnotized by its sweltering
Heat that evaporated the snow.
But after all that, the white will go
the white will go.
To where, few do know.

Then you're left with a liquid that's
Too great to handle
With these two small hands.
Faces on telephone poles,
faces on telephone poles
stare at me whilst I'm struggling to hold
this clear catastrophe.
Summer's got a monkey grip on me,
you see.