Sixteen degrees, end of december
It's so hard to tell something new
The smell of the city and paper-cup coffee
It's hard to believe but it's true
And we are repeating ourselves
Like good songs with bad refrains
15 degrees, end of the evening
It's so hard to get off to sleep
Holding the line with the hands in my pockets
The distance we're trying to keep
And we are repeating ourselves
Like good songs with bad refrains
The television set is way up too tired to tell us more lies
Phone companies cut our connections while silence keeps killing our time
13 degrees, six in the morning
There's barely a light on the street
The newspaper headlines start telling us stories
We're all going to get what we need
And we are repeating ourselves
Like good songs with bad refrains