Few things are certain, my friend
Not much of all this matters in the end
Theres been enough to ask and say
Thoughts unwind, now here to stay
Octobre's gone
But we still listen to the same old song
As we wash our hands in icy water
We turn numb, to feel again
The clouds moved faster, or so it seemed
So it seemed in, in octobre
Octobre's gone
But we still listen to the same old song
Few things are certain, my friend
Not much of all this matters in the end
Theres been enough to ask and say
Thoughts unwind, now here to stay
