I heard about it, and now before I show, I won't be swapping Christmas cards. Hope it's warm in the office, and your family's safe at home, Cause it snowed all night in Buffalo. It's just the way it goes, be safe on the road. But you don't know, what it feels like. But you don't know, what it feels like. Play good soldiers, march in perfect rows, take discomfort silently. Smile for posters, sing your stupid songs, for ten more like you'll come along. It's just the way it goes, death inside the crowd. But you don't know, what it feels like. But you don't know, what it feels like. Twelve hours from home, gets further each mile, we won't be stopping till dawn. It's more than just figures on paper, it's bliss to sun things, dreams shed at night and it's wrong. You say, there's a purpose behind us, we button our coats and push up in a diary stamp. But we can't go home. That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like. That's what it feels like.