Oh, my heart, the cold!   The numbness in my hands.   The gloves I stole from Mom.   The weakness of my skin.      Oh, my God, the time!   The paleness of the light.   The fire in my house.   The promises to keep.      I drive across an icy highway.   How will I die?   The streetlights burn like late desire.   How will I sleep?      What hope   for the uncovered man   in the chill of night?   Or the garden he made   when the fire arrives?   What hope?      God to me and God to be,   Jesus Christ up on a tree,   three to know and one to see.