february takes me over. december's crush is a cold shoulder- a block of ice to cry on. salt stained boots leave muddy marks on the backs we step on, can't step over.

je marchait, dans le froid, sans destination, ne pensant qu'au moment plus tard demain ou plus tard hier que je me blottirait contre lui; pour l'intstant je ne veux que m'empecher de toucher è ce comfort, préserver l'illusion de ne pas en avoir besoin.

and you shake the same today as you did yesterday but tomorrow it will take your body over, it will have spread from your shoulder and your hands will tremble when you lift your arms. for him you cannot move, for him you're nearly you.