I Think You Were in My Profile Picture Once

I saw you from the bottom of the stairs

'Fore 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 I brushed up on

Since knowing we won't speak like this again

You've got a certain who-knows-what about you

And I've got a 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 loss of life

And I know that it's quite

Heartbreaking we won't speak like this again