I'm sitting here

Going over my faces

Thinking of all the places I could rather be

And this time of year

I'm a fat little bear boy with my guitar

I'm a bumblebee buzzing at the bar

Waiting for the seas to turn to ice

Wouldn't it be nice

If all that mattered

Was the air growing fatter with the cold?

And I've been told

And I don't know why

But there seems to be a very fine line

Between the points of our thoughts

And the points of our minds

Could we ever be brave enough to define ourselves

Far less complicated?

For life is not for the weak heart