I saw you from the bottom of the stairs before you knew I was coming And though nervous and scared, I lingered on I heard most things break by the ends of these types of nights So ill force upon every word I’ve brushed up on Since knowing we wont speak like this again
You gotta’ certain who knows what about you And I gotta’ small amount of time To figure out what it is exactly and to whom does it apply, But I know for a fact that these are broken nights, Covered in bottles with the stench of a loss of life, And I know that it's quite heartbreaking we wont speak like this again.
