People say you can't wash away the mud of this world with pure white snow. You need asura snow - stained fiery red.

Either they don't know or don't show or just don't care about bein' a menace to South central while they drink their juice in the hood.

A chair is still a chair
Even when there's no-one sitting there
But a chair is not a house
And a house is not a home
When there's no-one there to hold you tight
And no-one there you can kiss goodnight