I saw you from the bottom of the stairs before you knew I was coming And though nervous and scared, I lingered on I heard most things break by the ends of these types of nights So I'll force upon every word Ive brushed up on Since knowing we wont speak like this again You gotta certain who knows what about you And I gotta small amount of time To figure out what it is exactly and to whom does it apply, But I know for a fact that these are broken nights, Covered in bottles with the stench of a loss of life, And I know that it's quite heartbreaking we won't speak like this again.