Few things are certain, my friendnNot much of all this matters in the endnTheres been enough to ask and saynThoughts unwind, now here to staynOctobre's gone nnBut we still listen to the same old songnAs we wash our hands in icy water nWe turn numb, to feel again nThe clouds moved faster, or so it seemednnSo it seemed in, in octobrenOctobre's gonenBut we still listen to the same old songnnFew things are certain, my friendnNot much of all this matters in the endnTheres been enough to ask and saynThoughts unwind, now here to stay