Old Winter
A pack of smokes in the cold
and your ungloved hands
souvenirs from an after-party
It's getting old, ready to go
not sure where we stand
but you tell me it's only getting harder
I'd give up my paycheck
and all that I own
for something resembling another chance
'Cause life isn't wasted
when I've got you around
but I'm grasping at straws
and I already feel lost
