Old Winter med Félice


a pack of smokes in the cold in your ungloved hands
a souvenir from an after-party
it's getting old, ready to go, not sure i can stand
but i'll tell you it's only getting harder


i gave up my paycheck and all that i owned
for a new start with you and another chance
and life ain't a waste if i got you around
let go home with you


seven days to become what you wanted to be
seven more and waiting is over
i'm already old and i've been told it's showing on me
but i don't notice unless i'm sober


i'm told not to worry, that you'll be alright
and i hear you but the pain still remains
this night is wasted if you don't stick around
let me go home with you


i wish this winter never had to end
a year of snow, of letting go


a pack of smokes in the cold
now we'll wait and see
what ungloved hands are doing to me