Seventeen years young   No one to call your own   Nothing left to talk about   Just sitting around and dreaming what you could have done   Alone until October   The winter nights grow cold   The wind whispers "I miss you, won't you come on home?"   Seventeen years older   Nothing much has changed   The bourbon's gotten stronger   And parts of you have aged   Still alone at Christmas   Family didn't call   Wonder why you left them   Was it worth it all?   Someday you will have to go   Time will tell - nothing surer   Promise me you'll let me know   What you're doing somehow, just don't fall apart   This is my last letter.. keep it close to heart.