Friday, January 9, 2015

Grated Ice

Grated Ice

Chisel, chisel on a windshield window,
waking to the sounds of frozen,
a movie left on with two sisters and icy wind flow.

Scrape against an icy pane,
scrape until there’s icy pain,
but don’t ice your mind and become insane.

Shaved ice, bare and brittle,
stuck in your drink,
yeah, right there in the middle.

Shake a Seattle lake and run up the middle,
Beast mode on ice, he found out someone ate the last skittle.


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