| The time has come for colds and overcoats | 
| We’re quiet on the ride | 
| We’re all just waiting to get home | 
| Another week away, my greatest fear | 
| I need the smell of summer | 
| I need its noises in my ears | 
| If looks could really kill | 
| Then my profession would be staring | 
| Know we do this cause we care | 
| Not for the thrill | 
| Collect calls to home | 
| Tell them that I realize | 
| That everyone who lives will someday die | 
| And die alone | 
| And we won’t let you in | 
| Though we’re down and out | 
| No we won’t let you in | 
| You win, you win, you win | 
| I wrote more postcards than hooks | 
| I read more maps than books | 
| Feel like every chance to leave | 
| Is another chance I should have took | 
| Every minute is a mile | 
| I’ve never felt so hollow | 
| I’m an old abandoned church with broken pews | 
| And empty aisles | 
| My secrets for a buck | 
| Watch me as I cut myself wide open | 
| On this stage | 
| Yes, I am paid to spill my guts | 
| I won’t see home till spring | 
| Oh, I would kill for the Atlantic | 
| But I am paid to make girls panic | 
| While I sing | 
| And we won’t let you in | 
| Though we’re down and out | 
| No we won’t let you in | 
| And we won’t let you in | 
| We don’t want what isn’t ours | 
| We won’t let you in | 
| You win, you win, you win | 
| And the coastline is quiet | 
| While we’re quietly losing control | 
| And we’re silent but sure | 
| We invented the cure | 
| That will wash out my memories of her | 
| «The harpoon is loaded. | 
| The cage is lowered | 
| The water is red.» | 
| Like you, like you | 
| And we won’t let you in | 
| Though we’re down and out | 
| No we won’t let you in | 
| And we won’t let you in | 
| We don’t want what isn’t ours | 
| We won’t let you in | 
| You win, you win, you win… |