It's getting cold all over again, so I'll be inside way too much again. You'll have to believe me, you'll have to hear me when I say: "I'll make something up just so that you'll believe in me." It's getting cold all over again and I'll be inside way too much again. This is [bad word] too routine for me. There will be time for this tomorrow, but it's days like this that keep me alive. Is there anything left for me? The daylight's almost over now, can't think of anymore to say. Even if I try to understand, it'll never ever be the same.