Goodnight, Stella, your eyes are closed. The door is locked and the coffee's old; the snow is down but the clouds are gone and again it's time to go.
And there's a pretty girl outside waiting for me. And her bike is locked and she's shivering under the birdcage hanging in the tree.
I made her come and I made her go, she wanted to stay but I said no. She won't be the girl waiting with me while I grow old.