You may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I’m not who I used to be.    No longer easy on the eyes but these wrinkles masterfully disguise,    The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw,    Something he was not looking for; both a beginning and an end.    But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize,    When he catches his reflection on accident.       On the back of a motor bike,    With your arms outstretched trying to take flight;    Leaving everything behind.    But even at our swiftest speed we couldn't break from the concrete,    In the city where we still reside.    And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men,    'Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides,    Like brothers on a hotel bed.    Like brothers on a hotel bed.    Like brothers on a hotel bed.    Like brothers on a hotel bed.      You may tire of me as our December sun is setting because I’m not who I used to be.