December was just too sad, For her to call a home. Even with starry nights And painted country roads. There was nothing I could do for her That I hadn't done, And my desperation eyes showed More than I think they should Have shown. She's just a whisper, Paranoid of perfect people bound to disappoint Her apartment life is easier Than the one outside. She can't get by on promises That I always deny. And my desperation eyes showed More than I think they should Have shown.