11:33

It's 11:33 and the night is young

And all I want to know is where you're coming from

I see your figure in the kitchen leaned against the wall

I'm smoking all your secondhand

I watch the ashes fall

Every time you look away I get this pang of fear

That there's somewhere in the world you'd rather be than here

I distract you in the doorway

Reach out for my hand

Trace my fingers on your silhouette while I still can

Isn't nice the way we spend the days?