she wrote me of the new year, on it's eve, nothing's gonna change
instinct and evidence of her ignorance to the way I operate
because as the new one was rolling in on Lorne's cold lick of wind
I was determining my resolution of not being nice not a sin
I was camped on the hills' side by the amphitheater's stage right
living in a weird state of mind watching Franz end the year's last night
and my thoughts were not with her for the messages she sent
instead they were with another whom I was sending what I meant
Ben Gibbard's voice is my only thought for the past three new years
and the anti-climatic short lasting feeling as another to fill appears
I'm rarely of resolution or aim to change my ways for the occasion
but her dull reply provoked my disinterest giving ease to persuasion
this just passed new years I called an early night retiring to sleep
unexcited and too sober state of mind a smile was hard to keep
seeping in from all around me was others' convictions of joy and love
but personally I could only see how this year love would not be enough
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