Trees

Trees are all stripping off for winter

Somehow that reminds me of you

Sitting in the passenger seat

My life, it used to be so complete

Thought I might phone you up this Christmas

And pretend that I haven't missed you

There are layers of self-deception

And I've reached the bottom without question

I don't want to talk about it

The bitterness and inadequacy

Inadequacy

I am far from overjoyed

I screwed the whole thing up, and that I can't avoid

Caught up this cul-de-sac

I really want my old life back

Trees are all stripping off for winter

I really hate December

It's a thirty-one day graveyard

I think I'm ready for the scrapyard

I don't want to talk about it

The bitterness and inadequacy

Inadequacy

I am far from overjoyed

I screwed the whole thing up, and that I can't avoid

Caught up this cul-de-sac

I really want my old life back