Could it be the seasons changing, the winds of winter rearranging, all the leaves like falling queens of sorrow?
Could it be the freezing rain of falling, could it be sad September calling, or maybe it's knowing she'll be gone come tomorrow?
Oh, what a strange world.
How many torching warnings fell upon us with no warning, looking for a smile to beg or borrow?
It's over now, there's no returning, a thousand bridges have been burning.
But like a way, I have to go.
Two o'clock alone, come tomorrow.
I guess that no amount of lying to myself will stop the crying.
I guess I have to take things like they are.
Facts are plain to see, it's only.
That I ain't used to being lonely, like I'm gonna be without you.
Come tomorrow.
Come tomorrow.
Come tomorrow.

Come tomorrow.

Come tomorrow.
Come tomorrow.
Come tomorrow.