December black but on a windowsill I sit for hoursnI kind of know how he feelsnSo much time to kill, and memoriesnOh, lost facesnI wish I had them nownnBut I'm sorry, I am what I amnAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnnI hope to God I don't send you out broken heartednI have been knownnBack it up and then maybe I'll see you laternOr maybe I won'tnnBut I'm sorry, I am what I amnAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnnSo you don't want to know the truth about how I feelnListen to the rain come pouring down as we're leaving LondonnHow quickly you seem to forget how I got to younI finally have got it made and you throw it all awaynnHold your head highnSplit the seamsnTired eyes, Tired eyesnSquints and staringnLooks that killnSarcastic smile, sarcastic smilennAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnAnd I'm sorry, I am what I amnnSo you don't want to know the truth about how I feelnListen to the rain come pouring down as we're leaving LondonnHow quickly you seem to forget how I got to younI finally have got it made and you throw it all awayn