If I had a gun, I'd shoot a hole into the sun, and love would burn this city down for you...

there's something about the wind against your face,

playfully sweeping the hair out of your eyes,

and that chill that numbs your fingertips,

rids the feelings from your legs.

there's something about that frigid breeze that leaves you numb,

and yet aware; aware of weaknesses, your pain, all that makes you human.

there's a sort of beauty in the wind that leaves you nothing but thoughts of how cold you are,

and that's the only trouble in the world you have at that very moment.

oh, the brutal beauty of it all...