You think you're better off You think you're better on your own You think you're cool enough You think you're sicker than most And will you say what you want to feel Or let them bring you down If you could write me back Would you hear me now I think we're getting colder winters The weathers making my bones grow old We're never getting past this depressive disorder You call a straight flush to make me fold I think we're getting colder winters The weathers making my bones grow old We're never getting past this depressive disorder You call a straight flush to make me fold And will you say what you want to feel Or let them bring you down If you could write me back Would you hear me now And will you say what you want to feel Or let them bring you down If you could write me back Would you hear me now I think we're getting colder winters The weathers making my bones grow old We're never getting past this depressive disorder You call a straight flush to make me fold