Our empty room, our deserted street
We intersect, overlap
Unacquainted, but not unfamiliar
It's tenuous, but not uncomfortable
We speak of petty differences, our tongues tied in dialect
In this room, it's always night
All shadows and darkened alleyways
All those songs of alienation and loss more or less add up to this
The length of our sentence simply meant that we convinced ourselves that we knew ourselves
But I only knew a sleeping body, you an empty bed
I knew the cover of a book that neither of us read
We knew of the smoke and mirrors, but not the trap doors
We both "wake up to an empty night and tears for two"
