Whole lotta questions

'Cause when I let a door open, I get a cold;

A cold shoulder, everytime that my arms unfold;

Not to be hurt any more, should I get colder?

Yesterday's Chicago Sun-Times at my front door,

Oh Hobson*, whom can this possibly be worth for?

Unlikely that I ever close any folder.

A long time ago I guess, I felt alright,

No falling for anyone meant no getting hurt;

Since that damn Cupid started to treat me like dirt,

Whole lotta conflicting feelings have come to light.

Eventually, should I fade into numbness?

Risk to end up torn apart again, in distress?

There are so few answers for so many questions,

Hence, I guess that, soon enough, I'm gonna end up

Out of my mind, though not willing to give it up;

Still, words wouldn't be sufficient, I'd need actions,

Enough said, it won't let me, procrastination.

*Gary Hobson, héros de la série télévisée "Demain à la une" (Early edition), reçoit chaque jour devant sa porte le Chicago Sun-Times du lendemain, ce qui lui permet de tenter d'éviter que certaines catastrophes se produisent