The more I'm alone in evening, filling that pit in my heart.
It makes a lot of sense I sit by smudged glass.
Watching the passerbys, and the winter birds fly
Hoping for something, that'll conjure alittle laugh.

Perhaps if I stood outside and maybe bathe in the cold
Said g'day to my old old neighbours, and try to grab ahold
Of myself, and my fuzzy mind, instead of just complaining.
But for now, I'll drug myself, watchin' Bob Ross a' painting

My days waste away as I drown myself in aged grapes.
Just to feel something warm, it's been quite cold as of late.
Avoid all my, friends they probably don't wanna see my eyes wet
Three whole bottles later and plenty hand rolled cigarettes
It's just my ****** luck, the white dust starts a' raining.
I guess I'll calm my shakes watch another Bob Ross painting.

Perhaps my mind like a mountain top, needs a new blanket of snow.
Covering the old habits, allow my mind room to grow.
To explore a new path, see through a rose lens
Cry out all my old tears until Bob Ross ends