Hurricane Bells The Winters In New York
How can I begin to say
The thoughts that're in my head
When other shit gets in the way
The words are never clear
How can my mind just try to understand myself
And every song just leaves you more alone
And when you're done, will those songs lead you home?
The winters in New York are hell
With bitterness and cold
This would suit me really well
At least as I recall
I remember all times in California shines
And every song just leaves you more alone
And when you're done will those songs lead you home?
Right on home
