It’s the end of March
Cold bites my skin in the morning
Sun hides until the afternoon
I don’t care if it’s snowing
I don’t care if it’s raining in my city
The night is gone before I ever get to sleep
No one’s gonna tell me anything
I want to be closer to you
But I just stare through the window panes
Watch the rain, count flakes of snow
Sitting still in a big, blue world
Where I’m the first that’s last to know
“If someone is missed”, says the Queen, “I will know their weather forecast perhaps better than they do, isn’t that so, Geraldine?”
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Geraldine has already become snow-like with a barometric of about 4.5
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