[Produced By Tristan Ivemy]
I was walking home to my house through the snow from the station
When the Springsteen came clear in my headphones with a pertinent question
Oh, is love really real and can any of us hope for redemption?
Or are we all merely biding our time down to the lonely conclusions?
Darling, let me take your hand as I talk you through this
How loneliness edged into deep seeded psychosis
Lying awake in crowded hotel rooms focused on tape hiss
With my feelings laid clear on the ceiling
I don't think I can do this
I don't think I can do this
Well, I've tried so hard to not turn into my father
But if I only ever skip out his choices, will I ever choose better?
Oh, the sad truth is the gra**, it will always seem greener
So I left you alone in a restaurant in London in winter
You deserved better
Adam Trask
Is on my back
And in my ears
And the sound comes clear and brings the awful truth that I can't stand what I've done to you
And it's written clear in my diary, today should have been our anniversary
But I'm far away and I'm far apart
And you're back home with a broken heart
And love is real and I can't escape
I'll only ever have myself to blame
These failures shift and save me in the night
Like a fever I can't break, try as I might
Wake me, darling, I need you to take me home
But I know in the end redemption is mine and mine alone
So if each of us is made off of a tally of mistakes and successes
Then the hour in that restaurant makes my score less than impressive
Oh, if each can be redeemed by the courage by which he confesses
So, darling, I miss you, your music and your musk and your kisses
I don't think I can do this