It's snowing, in SeattlenThe picture, on the mantlenOf you in, the apartmentnThe colors, are startingnTo disappearnnIt's colder, in DecembernAnd I still, remembernThe way that, you slipped throughnThe window, the morning nThat you appeared nnBut you've been floating far away from herenBut you've been floating far away from herennAnd when, the souls, of working mennWill warm, you up, you'll melt againnAnd flood, into, the crowded streetnHoping to find my feet, my feet.nnBut you've been floating far away from herenBut you've been floating far away from herennAnd when, the souls, of working mennWill warm, you up, you'll melt againnAnd flood, into, the crowded streetnHoping to find my feet, my feetnHoping to find my feetn(Hoping to find my feet,nHoping to find my feet)