Brave.

Skinny fingers, breaking away
Throwing stones at life every day
If you die alone, you'll stay mine for awhile more
I'll crawl out the window while you walk through that door.
Young hopes fading with the month of november
Lies you never thought you'd hear,
Rolling off your tongue,
Rolling off your songs-
Winter gets to you like a disease,
You feel so alone,
I could cure you in a second,
A second too late
Her hair on your pillow just became fate.
We're only rising to fall further down,
From the valley to the river,
Away from the music we used to hear