Living in a city with high class fashion,
Looking at the sky wondering when it will snow,
Dreaming and daring with so much passion
Oh - when will it pour?

Last year and the year before
It snowed more than I could have known
Patiently waiting at the front door
Thinking a surprise will fall in the zone

A cloud or two roll by,
Carrying much depressing color,
You hear a crack of thunder that’s dry
You glance up and see a white six pointed faller

Rain and snow mix together
To make a slush of hopeless dreams
The birds won’t migrate, those falling feathers
Only to have created streams.