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
And 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

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