I'm sobering up in cupid's ward tonight. 

Vacuum's bliss. Oxygen's masks.

Back home: I'm writing this letter with broken arms. 

I'm running all these miles to come up with your look, I'm addicted to alcohol to push my ego. 

Am I completely mental? Speaking is such a damn habit that I almost forgot. 

In denying my appearance I'll meet you in the next booze. Straight towards the abyss. 

Did you know that you are so beautiful? 

I'm fighting for things I can't reach. Are you worth it to kill my dreams? 

Is this world going crazy or am I?