The closest place, neither here nornwhere I am right nownin the world is better than nmyself, these daysnI spend too much time indoorsnnNow there's snow in the gardennthere's slush on the roadnLate and small hours onnthe clock on the wallnAnd I'm feelin' it allnfor a whilennAnd I can't find faultnwith all the things that you've beennairing out with menand the wind, it smellsnsomething awkwardnand something oldnnOh, baby, give me one more chancenWon't you please let menback into your heartnOh, darlin', I was glad to let you gonBut now I see you in ? ? ?nnIn a roundabout way,nit's the same thingnas listening to all the mistakesnListening your crying ?nListening your crying ?