Little drops of rain fell from the heaven on a strange cold midnight
Little creatures crawl near the damaged crops while working their magic
Its a strange night where the dead has risen from a long sleep
to repair the lives of their loved ones who still cling to their memories.
Here I am, holding a cigarette in temptation to smoke again
If only that way I can feel your nicotine dipped lips
There is a half empty bottle of whiskey in my Jacket and I want to drink it
to feel your whiskey tongue which knew me better than my mirror.
The lust when you smoked with me for the first time in that February cold
And you took a drag, waiting to feel the heat while we held each others hand.
Times when you only drank whiskey when you were lost and sad and angry
And yet we finished a half bottle of Jack, neat, naked, in that February cold.
<Metaphysics> You are running away from life, and I am running away from death
and slowly someday our paths will collide and we will meet again
in another universe, in some other dimension where there won’t be any logic
time will freeze, and we will smoke and finish that half bottle of jack </metaphysics>
I am dead and you are sad and whiskey is your only companion tonight.
The grave digger rings a bell, commanding the dead to return back to sleep
I gather your scattered thoughts and try to compose you into something coherent
I am staring at your naked body from the broken window while little creatures crawl.