Thinking of the past I feel my life

Is slipping by at such a speed

Things I knew have gone and those I loved

I look for granted and deceived



Call me anything you will

I'll hide behind a purple pill

And though it seems I'm laughing still

I'm crying



Looking from my window I see winter

Almost too bare to believe

People change with seasons

And I wonder if it's my turn to receive



But they avoid the things I ask

Or quickly change their style of mask

The faith I had is fading fast

I'm dying



Seems to me the only way to be

Is like a businessman

And have bad colours round my head

Getting drunk to find some peace of mind and consolation

But there's still the problem of what happens when I'm dead