Nobody knows except the seagulls and the crows.
Some say the heart is a lonely hunter.
I say its more like winter roadkill.
In the future they will find
the silly little scribblings of Mr. always-left-behind.
One day the earth will cough and sneeze and fart
and it won't have mattered that my heart had never played the part.
It's hard living on your own when you're all alone.
It's hard living alone when the world's so cold.
The world's so cold you can feel it in your bones...
I want to go home.