The sun is setting.
Barely any cars are going by this Sunday evening.
I'm sitting at the dining room table feeling drunk and high and who knows.
Maybe I'll take a walk, or go lay down.
Right now I'm singing in an empty apartment.
For the first time I noticed the echo.
I need food, I need to sleep, maybe see someone.
Tomorrow I'll wake up and regret calling off and I'll remember what happened, still in belief.