Messed up thoughts, and the words that intoxicate you are tangling in your mind.
And your eyebags and hoarse and unmelodious voice,
And your smiles that lasted for seconds you can count with your fingers.
And your lonely feeling, cold as the freezing village.
Your ideas of love are dying,
An perspective of the world is changing,
Just like the four seasons,
It's quick to change.
That thing called emotion and that
Thing called empathy.
Deviant, and no more trying to reach.
Sleeping in a lucid dream, a horrible one
Wasted out breaths and dumb headache
Ugly laugh and sensitive tears.
It's too boring if you commit suicide
So, goodnight, sweetheart