it's after midnight
my cell phone suddenly comes to life
the title says “don’t answer”
but as every other time
I can’t stop myself.

is it Saturday night
or Sunday morning?
it’s somewhere without definition, as for us,
I can always trust that when my dark knight
gets drunk on shadows he’ll make a call.

against my better judgment I run into the night,
overpowered by the thought of you,
my mind’s screaming:
“don’t give yourself away to him,
you’ll only get wasted away like everything else”
but I can’t help myself,
who decides what’s right and wrong?
And I want you to be right.

a familiar stranger,
your drunken self says so much,
when will you dare to tell me yourself?
Perhaps your darkest days and nightmares
can only be told through a bottle,
and this one was emptied hours ago.

It’s always enough,
It’s never enough.