It's 3 in the morning
And I'm standing outside
I'm in a place
Where everything goes to hide

The cold bites into me
But I do not mind
I can feel the snow through my shoes
Maybe, this is what I should choose

I sit in the cold
And bask in the sun's nonexistent glow
There are no words to ruin this
No thoughts to ruin me

The cold, it alleviates my pain
Numbs the wound
It touches me
Through the layers

I feel content
A strange kind of boon
Is this the answer to my prayer? 
Is God's gift the cool winter air? 

Maybe this will fix my blues
Maybe this is what I choose
I should move to where there isn't sun
Instead of looking into the barrel of my own gun