[Produced By Tristan Ivemy] I was walking home to my house through the snow from the station When the Springsteen came clear in my headphones with a pertinent question Oh, is love really real and can any of us hope for redemption? Or are we all merely biding our time down to the lonely conclusions? Darling, let me take your hand as I talk you through this How loneliness edged into deep seeded psychosis Lying awake in crowded hotel rooms focused on tape hiss With my feelings laid clear on the ceiling I don't think I can do this I don't think I can do this Well, I've tried so hard to not turn into my father But if I only ever skip out his choices, will I ever choose better? Oh, the sad truth is the gra**, it will always seem greener So I left you alone in a restaurant in London in winter You deserved better Adam Trask Is on my back And in my ears And the sound comes clear and brings the awful truth that I can't stand what I've done to you And it's written clear in my diary, today should have been our anniversary But I'm far away and I'm far apart And you're back home with a broken heart And love is real and I can't escape I'll only ever have myself to blame These failures shift and save me in the night Like a fever I can't break, try as I might Wake me, darling, I need you to take me home But I know in the end redemption is mine and mine alone So if each of us is made off of a tally of mistakes and successes Then the hour in that restaurant makes my score less than impressive Oh, if each can be redeemed by the courage by which he confesses So, darling, I miss you, your music and your musk and your kisses I don't think I can do this