December was just too sad,

For her to call a home.

Even with starry nights

And painted country roads.

There was nothing I could do for her

That I hadn't done,



And my desperation eyes showed

More than I think they should

Have shown.



She's just a whisper,

Paranoid of perfect people bound to disappoint

Her apartment life is easier

Than the one outside.

She can't get by on promises

That I always deny.



And my desperation eyes showed

More than I think they should

Have shown.