The night is cold as he walks alone.
Thinking about the things he should have said.
Its getting late, he's got to clear his head;

he's got his sweater on.

He really knows he shouldn't feel this way.

He spends his days in that little room.
Can't remember who he's talking to
when he's on his knees.


All his friends think he's pretty nice.
He just smiles just to keep them out.

They don't know what to talk about
when they're on their own.


There's a hole where there shouldn't be.
He tries to fill it but it never holds.
They always crumble or just get too old;

he just knows it hurts.

Summer's gone and I'm alone.


Pick the pieces up, pick the pieces up, pick the pieces up.
Summer's gone and I'm alone.