Winter is creeping to the ceiling
Down to the chair where you used to sit
And I'm still sitting, hurting and healing
The final argument that you lit

Some minutes are a little harder than others
As I wait for an answer night after year
This pain is a tribute to all my suffers
But why the hell can't you just get back here

One AM on some Sunday night
I drive down town to visit that bar
It is silly of me to think that you might
Be their singing on that same old jar

No men at the bar, no stripper that dances
Getting a glance of whoever comes in
I'm sitting and looking at that old piano
That seemed to carry with it so much pain and sin

Keep it up
Keep it up and never stop
You don't know nothing till you get to the end

Keep it up
Keep it up and never stop
I really do miss you just come back again

Winter is creeping...