It’s gonna be another sad one, baby
I can feel it in my bones like a chill coming
Over me in the winter when I see my last long lover
Yet again, another road to follow
I can see it as it flips from side to side
I drive on the right but everybody else is coming my way
And if I intercept or maybe even circumvent
this fear I have of resolution, can I make a contribution?
Birds don’t seem to worry about their wings.

It’s gonna be another cold one, baby
I can see it on my breath as I try to explain
All the ways I faltered, all the reasons I should slumber
And still, in sleep, I never move beyond it
On an Island full of hopes and dreams
But it sure seems like reality is the ocean
And if comprehend the objects on in my pockets, I’ve apprehended
What’s the point of this jumble of ink, can I suspend my disbelief?
Birds don’t seem to worry about their wings.