A lifetime of possibilities just walked into the room, attracting suitors in similar suits. Smelling fresh shadow and gnawing at her fingertips, press-on nails scratching foreheads. Promises of promising potential sleepless nights. Yet I'll press on, over the frozen tundra of cold shoulders and icy stares. The image is inside you, yet color bars prohibit us from graying up our grammar. And we stammer and we stammer, but particles disintegrate. What I see before me now - pointless clips and hollow quips, scenes of feigned interest and songs of failed friendships. A feeding frenzy of feeding lines, now I've crossed the finish line, now I've crossed the finish line. Now I'm finished. Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm wrong, for me to think I could climb in wintertime. That's possible, it's possible, it's definitely possible.