So tomorrow won't come anymore.
She said the sun refuses to rise.
Said, "what's the point of shinning when everyone's shades are pulled down all the time?"
But the stars have never mourned the way they mourned for your eyes.
And do you have convictions?
And do you ever miss them, the way I thought that you would?
Sometimes.

And I will bury myself tonight,
and no one can tell, but the dirt underneath my nails.
Patiently you wait for me to bleed underneath the sheets,
'neath the lights.
Underneath me.

And I will walk away from nothing pretending there's something existing inside these walls.
Before I get to ahead of myself. I let it seep into the fall.

So tomorrow doesn't come anymore,
she said the sun refuses to rise.
Said, "what's the point to shine, when everyone's heads are faced down all the time?"

But the stars have never mourned the way they mourn for the way they reflected of your eyes.
Do you have conviction, and do you ever miss them?
Sometimes, at night.