How did we get here, how the hell?
Pan left, close on the steeple of the church
How did I get here, how the hell?
Christmas! Christmas Eve, last year

How could a night so frozen
Be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild
Be so raw?

Why are entire years strewn
On the cutting room floor of memory?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close-up on the 3-D IMAX of my mind

That's poetic, that's pathetic
Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door
And Collins choose that phone booth
Back where Angel set up his drums?
Why did Maureen's equipment break down?

Why am I the witness
And when I capture it on film
Will it mean that it's the end?
And I'm alone

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Joathan D. Larson