How can I begin to say The thoughts that're in my head When other shit gets in the way The words are never clear How can my mind just try to understand myself And every song just leaves you more alone And when you're done, will those songs lead you home? The winters in New York are hell With bitterness and cold This would suit me really well At least as I recall I remember all times in California shines And every song just leaves you more alone And when you're done will those songs lead you home? Right on home