It took albums and albums of loud music
                         to drive away the rain today
            Though I quite like the dense, fast wind to the south
                                                                                  I can whisper your name on it
                                                                         the words become a supersonic kite
                                                                                   slicing through the clouds
                                                                             reaching you in South America

                                      I miss you so so madly

No amethyst eyes
No sincere smiles
No warm hands with a little electricity
No more falling asleep in a hot knot

                       I can feel the gentle ice crystals
                                                       tickling as they grow;
                                                       the frost is forming on my soul