Ana [an-uh, an-nuh]

It's New Year's Eve and I'm trying to leave

But you haven't the slightest idea

The pots and pans in the wrong hands are telling

Count back from ten

We do it again each year

What's your ideal outcome tonight?

It isn't this

I'd be remiss if I kept quiet

Look, don't get me wrong

The fact we lasted this long and intact

This proves the theories that they had

We weren't so bad

Losing my voice and not by choice

Since you and I had it out

It's New Year's Eve and I'd like to leave

But I'm passed out on the couch