| Once a friend told me of his experience, | |
| That he had loved somebody and in pain, | |
| He had slit his arm and sent the blood to her | |
| and that he was glad that it was over | |
| He had talked and made love like an expert, | |
| But I had never seen his soul | |
| And his eyes had a sort of dead smile | |
| As if he wanted me to believe | |
| that he was still alive | |
| He was a winter friend to me, | |
| We walked in the snow to Chinatown for noodles | |
| That was many years ago, in another life, | |
| Why do I remember it now? | |
| When I'd heard his story, | |
| I'd heard it like a car accident | |
| that I would never be in myself | |
| He was a winter friend to me, | |
| We walked in the snow to Chinatown to noodles | |
| La la la la la la la | |
| La la la la la | |
| La la la la la la la | |
| La la la la dee la dee la da | |
| Dee la la la | |
| Now that i see my car slipping down the cliff | |
| And i'm desperately looking for the brake... | |
| Don't let it happen to me, | |
| Please, don't let it happen to me, | |
| I'm not ready to die or live a living death, | |
| I'm not ready to die or live a living death, | |
| I'm not ready to die.. |
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