The first at twelve, I'll give you that
But little i get from those kinda pats
And now we're going back home
You cannot look me in the eye
Your shaky legs and sweaty hands
Make me understand, you did not expect this to happen
The rings on your eyes
And those on mine
Though alike, they do not come from the same acts
These early mornings rarely happen
And of course now is when they decide to start the acting
Coldish breezes, life seems easier
But they only happen at the worst of times
Now the night's only a sad recall
Events before the after-thoughts
Maybe rest
'Cause I can tell you are pretty fucked
Ran out of luck
Sad to think the 6th fucking sucked