Once again it's the last hour of the weekend. I'm weakened and facing a new week of seeking ends. True deeds are needed, but then reasons seize it as a means to an end since next weekend, I need to spend what I earn to be free again. Drugs, I needed more than friends and before the night ends, I'm bored sitting on the porch light waiting for the morning light to send me storm I'd like to sleep in. It seems a dream at times when seeing skies turn to deeper red to match the color of these sleepless eyes. Strains the chains that never changes, but changes the day. Changes the station of lives just to take it away and some say the sunrise, well, it symbolizes what's to come, but I've decided it symbolizes all that's been said and done. With one last smoke to finish this last glass of Guinness and the last cap of E in me that's fading rapidly each minute. As the last star's diminishing the dawn, beyond the moonlight, the light proves this night has come and gone. And I know this is dangerous, how I'm feeling, 'cause I don't want to come back down. The night just seems so marvelous. A state of feeling is soft to me. Yeah. The sun's coming up and I'm coming down. Last night was a blast, right? I asked, "Why does Psy nightly react like this?" Friends passed out. Empty glasses surround the room. Sounds of booming speakers leaking out my ears, they'll be gone soon like a monsoon. Volatility has brought a new awakening. Sit and try to take it in. Maybe isn't natural as the toll of the evening. The feeling of breathing morning air's deceiving. Sort of rare, unbelievable. Leave unknowing stares on every face I have. I think of stares and I have to laugh 'cause I ain't even trying to see. Half of that's true. Mad woozy and I last through the night. It's tight. We should recite a rhyme about this. I don't ever want to be up out this, but now the sun's out of hiding, moon's through looming. It's too luminous. Guess I'll just settle and then sweat. And I know this is dangerous, how I'm feeling, 'cause I don't want to come back down. The night just seems so marvelous. A state of feeling is soft to me. Yeah. Things are so seldom perfect, but when they are and it first hits, you feel refurbished and nothing makes you nervous. Like everything that happened before was worth it. You go through it all again just so this feeling could resurface. Immersed in the present without thinking at all. Those few times in your life you wish you could reverse and recall. You wouldn't take back a thing. It's like you rehearse as you were small, but when you lay back and relax, you hope the blinking won't fall into a creeping deep sleep that catches you off guard. Waking up as if you never nodded off. And it's hard to grasp 'cause now it's passed and you're back at the beginning asking yourself, "How long can I last before getting another second of passion for living?" It went too fast, but that's a given. I guess it's meant to happen like that and that's how we're driven when your imagination becomes an actual vision and it's so vivid, you're never too distracted to miss it. And I know this is dangerous, how I'm feeling, 'cause I don't want to come back down. The night just seems so marvelous. A state of feeling is soft to me. This is dangerous, how I'm feeling, 'cause I don't want to come back down. I don't want to come back down. The night just seems so marvelous. A state of feeling is soft to me. Yeah. Come back down. This is dangerous. I don't want to come back down. Softer now.