the light streams, i sweat hot as winter
my cold dreams, i can’t place a finger
on your blue jeans, they wrap over waters
i’ve never seen, but in my cold dreams
the blue streaks, it all makes me wonder
if you speak, it all sounds like thunder
and blue heat, but i don’t know weather
so tell me is it raining in my cold dreams
joy is a secret, if only the view didn’t ruin the surprise
i’m stuck under pillows on a boat that’s perpendicular to the shore
and the sun is beating down like honey blossoms in the spring
and the wind constant, flowing forcefully like a bumblebee’s sting
always like his purple shadow, dark as snow, white as rain
i see the echoes below the winter, i hear the billows coming through the summer
and the blue streak stains, warmer than they seem
following the patterns from my cold dreams
from my cold dreams
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