I'm moving your mental feet
In complex dances and jigs
I'll loosen up your consciousness
Like a syrup of figs
It's time to emerge from camouflage leaves and twigs
Time to throw the fake noses and fright wigs
Time to face the music
No more metaphor
Time to decide your fate
Will you be cooked or go raw
Will you be
Rare and bloody with your soul exposed
Or well done
a charcoal surface with your insides froze
and do you feel fear
as you hear
another door close
or will you just turn away
and flow where the wind blows
and are you still satisfied with the pathways you chose
or would you like to go back
and rewrite the old prose

[CHORUS]

Do you count the flakes
When it snows
And can you feel the heat
or only the afterglows
Do you count the flakes