It's quiet again tonight My room reeks of wine; Languid from the oppressive summer heat Isolating myself from this dirty city Mislaying my vigor in an alcoholic stupor This isn't living This lightness is all we have And I've done nothing but waste each night In my room with the company of a bottle Glimpsing into the lives of people I don't even know I keep telling myself that there must be more to this life than drinking and loneliness I am trying to make whatever life I have left bearable But this weight of regret gives way to resignation No matter how hard I try it may not be worth it in the end It may not be worth it in the end