It's February
The very heaviest middle of the night
We've been waiting on the spring
We've been waiting on the morning light
To reveal itself like a mystery

Lately my friend
He says his throat's been feeling tight
It's a struggle for him to sing
Hell, just breathing, that's a fight
Under the weight of this pathology

We've been sitting for days
Just hoping the snow will melt
But this ain't no labyrinth maze
It's more a conveyor belt

Built in ignorance of need
Just random lengths
And abusive speeds

And maybe it's all decided
Like this ticking time-bomb gene
Making that cancer in your throat

And if it's all been decided
I still think that you should sing
From the top of the opening
To the very last lines that you wrote