The snow was falling gently, but she radiated summer,   And the winter melted at her feet   Her eyes were emerald green, which impeccably matched her frozen cheeks   With her locking lips and with her frosted winter hair      Who could possibly imagine   That the devil would dress herself in Angel’s skin   Just to leave an impression?      And the agency agrees: there’s nothing quite like ditching your routine -   An updated piece will increase the attendance   And the colors complemented me   I painted every line so perfectly   Even Picasso would bend down on one knee.      She must have read the great reviews   Her hands move faster than mine do.   My shirt was struggling to survive before the sheets could settle   Before the sun could break the skyline, pushing light back into view      Who could possibly imagine   That the devil would dress himself in Angel’s skin   Just to leave an impression?      This is nothing more than a reaction to lying face down.   And I’m no longer a service to the ravens anyway.