Trying2beVegan

Turning the lights on at half past two

The call of the bleak midwinter sighs

With the rooms of the house to dim to abide

With cold perspiration of the windows inside

What could it mean to be so bleak

What could it mean to be so grim

Why must the December grey that seems so long in Liverpool

Lay upon the mind as a dark cloud lingers in the sky

Full of water ready to fall

And drench the poor soul below.

Oh how I dream of California sun,

Even the winter would provide more fun

But here I shall sit gloomy as before

But at least well lit perhaps as I wait by the door.