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