There's a mess inside of me.
I'm raising my hands, there, at the lighthouse.
Don't judge me, tell me, how is it?
This morning the body was found in the river.
And I'm writing a letter to you into my notebook.
I'm leaving it half-done.
I'd do anything, I just won't go to sleep.
And I'm looking for your face on my own face.
What a sharp and egregious pain.
What a strange desire to fall.
There's something about me and alcohol,
And that something has power over me.
The lights switch on in the buildings.
I'm slowly coming to meet you.
Tonight we'll remain alone.
This morning the body was found in the river.