These late nights, they call for reminiscence
thoughts and feelings roam like unbridled mercenaries
and though my memories suffer from apartheid
I look on
I need the morning, the freedom it brings from the bedtime silence
because it is then that I long for whats gone
I need the morning, and the enthusiasm it promises
Still, I look on
You infiltrate my head, sly as a love bird
My heart, hidden like a sky scraper
Blood, safe like alcohol
I desperately try to look on
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