i step out through the back door, the snow crunching under my black boots, my breath coming out in a fog as if my soul to excape, slipping through my tongue, the wind picks up as a take a little stroll around the corner, like a thousand splinters, damn its cold tonight, wish that old midsummers night brease to come rolling on by and thaw my frozen cheeks, reaching into my pocket i pull out my cigaretts, kinda hard with gloves, shaking from the withdrawl, i shake out my last one, so quick, lets smoke this and get back to the fire, the paper rolled tobbaco slips once spent, that should be enough, now lets get back, the firey coal burns out as the sound of my black boots fades, in the snow where i left you, to die out.