At one in the morning the day has not ended
By two he is scared that sleep is no friend
And by four he will drink but he cannot feel it
Sleep will not come because sleep does not will it

And I don’t believe him,
Morning is mocking me.

I’ll wander the streets avoiding them eats
Til the ring on my finger slips to the ground.
A gift to the gutter,
A gift to the city,
The veins of which have broken me down.

And I don’t believe him,
Morning is mocking me.
And the gods that he believes
Never fail to amaze me.

He believes in the love of his god of all things
But I find him wrapped up in all manner of sins.
The drugs that deceive him and the girls that believe him:
I can’t control you, I don’t know you well,
These are the reasons I think that you’re ill.
I can’t control you, I don’t know you well,
These are the reasons I think that you’re ill.