The first at twelve, I'll give you that But little i get from those kinda pats And now we're going back home You cannot look me in the eye Your shaky legs and sweaty hands Make me understand, you did not expect this to happen The rings on your eyes And those on mine Though alike, they do not come from the same acts These early mornings rarely happen And of course now is when they decide to start the acting Coldish breezes, life seems easier But they only happen at the worst of times Now the night's only a sad recall Events before the after-thoughts Maybe rest 'Cause I can tell you are pretty fucked Ran out of luck Sad to think the 6th fucking sucked