Next Season Songtext
von Port O’Brien

You will sleep through the snow
Wake to find everyone has left for home
And hopped a plane, flew down south
Hope to find someone there to call your own

When you arrive stay off your mind
Until you find the truth
Wait at a dock
Pull on the dock
Until you have pulled it down

I am lonesome
But not for you
Make your own bread
Feed me too
The hills I long for
Are in bloom
And I am lonesome
But not for you, you


You used your friend
For all their worth
Cut them off
But everyone would follow you

And now you′re left
In your room
Pray to god
That everyone would follow you

Out on your own
Shouldn't have called
No one or no body to belong
I can see it my eyes
I took our lives
And waited for you to run

And I am lonesome
But not for you
Make your own bread
Feed me too
The hills I long for
Are in bloom
And I am lonesome
But not for you


I′m not where I want to be
I have given up on you
Now I'm on my way again
But I'll stay here for the night
Killing time until the next season

And I am lonesome
But not for you
Make your own bread
Feed me too
The hills I long for
Are in bloom
And I am lonesome
But not for you