Good old times stay in my soul
But happiness behaves like a phantom
I miss the smiles, the screams, and the hugs
I'm going home, eyes on the horizon
And I wonder why
It doesn't matter
How hard I try
It always slips away
I have to face this heavy goodbye
'Cause when I walk away, the void will find me
I'm on my own, the Moon comes and goes
But I can't help myself from going under
And I wonder why
It doesn't matter
How hard I try
It always slips away
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!
It's the post-tour depression!