2:51 A.M.
Andrew Joyce
Late night, shit’s winding down and I’m making rounds
Trying to make sense of this strange emptiness
Quiet - no one’s around. It’s become so still now
And the shadows in the corner keep creeping in
It’s like this every time, just with different goodbyes
(Ooh, check it why?)
When I’m here alone this place don’t feel like home