Outside it is snowing   Pretty long and pretty hard   I stop and think of Ishmael   And how the color white is evil      The walls are slowly eating   All they fall upon   I take my leather gloves off      The ocean is white    Is is filled fish   The sky is so blue   It is made of wings      I sit beside the fire   When I try to sleep again   I stop and think of Ishmael   And how the color white is evil      The walls are slowing eating   All that's in the room    I close my eyes and drift off      Well the ocean is white    It is filled with fish   The sky is so blue    It is made of wings   It is made of wings   It is made of wings