12 a.m.
Friday night or Saturday morning?
Depends on your perception I suppose
The thought of me in the back of your mind
as you begin your nightly journey
Play your thoughts coy and we can boost your ego for a bit
But I feel it when you think about me

2 a.m.
You've decided it's Friday night and you have nothing to lose
Time to waste, but you always walk with such fast pace
The moon beams before you, she is your guide
You find comfort in the significance of me there
But you still bury yourself under shadows in fear
that the moon may not shine this bright for you after all

4 a.m.
You're seeing things that aren't there again
Figments of your imagination
You met me in your dreams, you said
You're wondering if I'm feeling alive or dead
Dialing my number
Calling once, twice, three, four times

6 a.m.
You saw me every where, felt me there all night
But it's Saturday morning and you've battled your fright
You still haven't caught your breath, your thoughts dissipate in our last words
It's been weeks since you've seen me and I still haunt your head
Dialing my number, calling once
Hello?

8 a.m.*
There you are, and here I am *tearing apart at the seams
Adding another link to the cigarettes we've chain-smoked in thought of warmth
You try to calm your nerves as I spark the flame of my lighter a metaphor for your soul
To sooth your addiction a metaphor for my being
And you can finally breathe I am your air
As I can truly feel *you are my fire