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The Pond

The water lays peacefully still. Frozen under layers of ice with no notion of outside thrill. Waiting for something that will fill, but fearing the wrong weighted dice. The water lays peacefully still. Will need that snow, but by some skill. I'd give anything for that price with no notion of outside thrill. Goodbye beautiful, frozen will. I don't need your sorrow advice! The water lays peacefully still? No ice, only scent of dunghill. Why did we trust this paradise? With no notion of outside thrill. Guess we will wait and see that till the result of self-sacrifice, the water lays peacefully still with no notion of outside thrill.

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