It's 3 o'clock in the morning,
awaking in a distant land from where I called home.
Too far, to be gone,
I am here at last.

It's 3 o'clock in the morning,
who needs some rest in the city that never sleeps?
So I toss my sleeping pills onto the window,
for I am no longer walk absentmindedly in a labyrinth.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
too much noise from the roommate's snore to block.
I quietly closed the door behind me,
escaping the confusion and worries away.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
as I walk to the mighty Brooklyn Bridge.
Stand still gracefully in between two places,
ignoring what goes and going in life.

Come, morning light, I whispered to myself,
flaneuring in the middle of serene darkness.
Hoping the light will come,
on this endless pavement.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
as I do recall those nights wishing I was here.
In the state of peaceful mind,
overjoyed for searching the rhymes of my heart.

It's suddenly 5 o'clock in the morning,
time to go home.
With a crimson tinted sky above my head,
the sun appeared and it was a brand new day.