I treader out of the mountains with snow numbing my ankles
and distorted human voices that I'd strained to remember.
And there you were, no blanket, nothing warm to drink,
asking no questions
Then you spoke to a beat that wasn't in my feet
crunching the ice and snow below
You said you'd be going away, but you'd
be here for a while
And I adapted to your cottage
though I filled your frames and drawers for you
Because when you left, I'd have to leave too
but I could bring the things I threw away
I think that's how it works
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