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Thought Of Another Year
It's a week 'till Christmas
I'm sitting in this room of prophets and one said to me, "Guess I'll miss another one"
These nicotine stains are hard to bare
Some wear theirs like medals
And me just trying to fit in
Chorus:
And the thought of another year
In this cold, pale prison
Spent doing time for feeling
With those who don't even rule their worlds
And me lending my advice for a cigarette and some ego
Explaining my advice is only worthy of what I know
Nothing's absolute except it seems this circle
In one ear and out a chunk of soul
Chorus
I think I can see the future
It just can't get any worse than this
Unless I end it here and now
I can't even speak my words
It's a week 'till Christmas
Christ means little to me now