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[mcZu]

Gloves, hands; heat on hands like a firearm ‘cause man;
It’s cold out there; winter has unfolded its aura, its flair.
Damn; it even covers the season of lovers - bummer
I sprung back to the summer; off-road like a hummer
Came off spring; like pregnancy ending – no soft things
Except for the snow that’s landing; on the ground now…
So far I have found, that the sound surrounding my house
Comes from this blizzard; that has distanced the visions
Of surviving in this cold unbreakable prison;
So I need the key to seal the past behind my shield – a field
Call it Scofield; I show deals to myself to try to escape
This vault – I masquerade my faults; they try to barricade my thoughts
Bars rack my abdomen apart, I lay my heart – from the very start
On tracks, articulate through art, while my pen circulate my thoughts
Until I envision my cause; in this world, until then I do it with words…