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