I am a snowflake–
cold and shrill,
pure and fair,
taking my time as I fall,
fall through the air.
Watch me tumble through that pretty girl’s hair
with my visions of the future crystal clear
and a gale-forced heart that blows me higher,
higher than a jazz trumpeteer.
And I know I’m one of many.
I know that soon the variety dies out
and you’ll start to hate the shrillness
as you insist that I’ve been here too long.
But god knows you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.