(Scott Brainard)

You can build your snowmen
With images of rattlesnakes
The cold is so bitter man
Really giving me the shakes
There sits a train on hold
Two squares are living life
I could go over but I stay high above
Itís too cold tonite

Back fifteen years it meant so much
Openness we couldnít touch
Soon big boys will desecrate
In this deadly waste
I kick the dust up with my shoe
A silly thing to do
Something out here isnít right
Theyíre just killing time

The chill makes me think of an island
Equatorial paradise
Just as I lay back to enjoy it
The king he rolls his dice
Go and take a chance on a landfill
And hope they get it right
If they donít itíll just be those
Who sleep and die
They die in the night

To roll along from here to there
Next stop no one knows where
I sit back in my chair
Yeah but nobody lives here

God forsaken real estate
Whatís inside these peopleís gaze
They get off at the next stop
I stay on