Our season has come quite early.
The tips of the leaves aren't even wet,
but I feel this winter creeping up my spine.
My heart is frozen, and you're feeling just fine.
Give me back my life.
I can't promise you that things will be alright.
So hear my voice again (make it last),
and cry your eyes out one last time.
And I guess you'll leave again,
but this time without looking back.
I'll tell my mother you're gone for good,
but let your parents know the news.
Rest your head and behave yourself.
We don't know if we'll be here tomorrow.
So I'll try my best to pretend that we're
still friends, but I know these are hollow words.
I'll try to sing the rain away
just like I had learned as a child.
I'm waiting for these days to pass me now,
but I'm just getting there.
I'm just getting there.
Am I'm almost there?
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