It's 2 a.m and outside the lamp-posts are staring at me.
It feels a bit like being squeezed through a sieve.
I don't believe in you anymore.

I try to hold on to the memories you left to me
But they vanish through my fingers like melting snow.
In the quiet of the night they flee from my dreams.

These are the messages that I sent to you this year,
I can see them all laid out in typescript.
But there's no guarantee that you read them.

This is the apology that I tried to send you before:
I'm sorry for wasting your time with things that are
fundamentally meaningless.
It's 2 a.m and outside the lamp-posts are staring at me.