Here I sit in my chair
Having cut off all my hair
Feeling the wind on my mind
But not a breeze I can find
I sit and think about the cold
The grey sky
And the days of old
How I wished the winter would go by
But maybe here it stays for all these days
And after it’s all done, and I’ll leave feeling fairly high
But how I wish the winter would go by
Does it all have a meaning, or do some things just happen?