"Back alleys are so dark at twelve and one oâclock, Iâm empty handed with only a glass but no I won't drink. Its seven-thirty again Iâm dreaming that I had a life instead Iâll sit here on the edge of my bed singing stupid love songs that don't ever end. I don't want to hate you. I wish that I could love you. instead Iâll wallow in misery and dance to the rhymes of your sweet nurseries, well Iâve tried begging down your stone cold eyes but I should have known that Iâd look to far from what's inside of your heart."