Good old times stay in my soul But happiness behaves like a phantom I miss the smiles, the screams, and the hugs I'm going home, eyes on the horizon
And I wonder why It doesn't matter How hard I try It always slips away
I have to face this heavy goodbye 'Cause when I walk away, the void will find me I'm on my own, the Moon comes and goes But I can't help myself from going under
And I wonder why It doesn't matter How hard I try It always slips away
It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression! It's the post-tour depression!
