Wintering

In [bad word] days I may take to flight
Circling the trees like a bird bound south
But I always float back down on my lazy wings
To the frozen ground, to my apathy

And just as sure as the days grow short
Somehow we're always waiting

In [bad word] days don't you be surprised
If I hibernate, if I hide my eyes
So if you found me down some dark hideaway
We could wait around, could watch the shadows change

And just as sure as the days grow short
Somehow we're always waiting

So I may call you up and I may be inclined
To get [bad word] on words, to be short on time

And just as sure as the days grow short
Somehow we're always waiting