One, two, three, four

See the sun kiss the night goodbye
I'm in no shape to moderate
I'm in love with the [?] sky
It hides all my friendly mistakes
Tonight I am dancing alone through the past
Whose perfume is stinging my lungs?
Better last

Not on the phone
Not on a passing plane
It's hard to be on your own
Lord, I know it

October
I can't win
I'm sober
And I can't win

Last night was just another one
It's hard to differentiate
I'm not crying, not awake yet
But who listen anyway?

I'm learning to crawl on my own to meet
Hearing you talking some distant dream

Not on the wire
Not on the edge of a night
It's hard to admit it
Sometimes

October
I can't win
October
I can't win
I'm sober
And I can't win

October
I can't win
October
I can't win

Ripping ties the hands that give, with constant need to grow
The girl now sings the song I wrote for you between shells of art nouveau