Fronting

Yeah, it's still cold here. Don't pretend
For even just one minute that
The front is coming to an end
For if you do I tell you flat
The cold will knock you on your ass
And freeze it off, to teach you to
Knock off that silly sassafras,
That optimism, like you knew
Somehow how long it ought to go.
No, it will stay here as it pleases
Until at last it brings us snow
Or hell despite of all flame freezes
Or by good luck, which I much doubt,
It simply warms and we get out.