The Clearing (Weatherbox)

I woke in the snow with my face on the pavement and icicles hanging off most of my clothes10 picket fences for 10 perfect houses with green little gardens lined up in a row I walked past the gardens and into the trees And I found myself rather lost And I picked a nice clearing I dropped to my knees I said I will get home at any cost But they found me in the snow Icicles on all my clothes Surrounded in the splinters of 10 picket fences for 10 perfect houses There shattered and scattered all across the road I stand and I look at the wreckage around me I whistle and turn I start walking home And it's back through the gardens and through the same trees to the clearing I passed out in before And I threw up my hands to admit my defeat When the chemicals erupted once more And the clearing grew and began to bend And all the sun light started pouring in And you walked up, all bathed in white And you stripped me naked You held me tight But they found me in the snow Icicles on all my clothes Surrounded in the splinters