Weekday Influence Testo

Seventeen years youngNo one to call your own
Nothing left to talk about
Just sitting around and dreaming what you could have done
Alone until October
The winter nights grow cold
The wind whispers 'I miss you, won't you come on home?'
Seventeen years older
Nothing much has changed
The bourbon's gotten stronger
And parts of you have aged
Still alone at Christmas
Family didn't call
Wonder why you left them
Was it worth it all?
Someday you will have to go
Time will tell - nothing surer
Promise me you'll let me know
What you're doing somehow, just don't fall apart
This is my last letter.. keep it close to heart.