Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean
The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green
The snowbird sings the song he always sings
And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring

When I was young my heart was young then, too
Anything that it would tell me, that's the thing that I would do
But now I feel such emptiness within
For the thing that I want most in life's the thing that I can't win