I can speak, but humor me and say what I want to hear.
You know the heaviness behind my breath should be ignored.
In the still of lonely night when the after parties die,
my heart keeps longing for the sound of another voice.
I know that I'm not the kid we used to know.
I understand when we talk alone, but you have to go.
It's okay, it's fine with me 'cause I have other friends I've got to see, but in this time of night I'm left thinking
Can you throw me a story—some advice I don't need?
In the hope I could still relate with you.
Late, sleepy talks lead to feelings we forgot.
They're only whispers we'll soon again be strangers to.
I know we've had this conversation once before.
It's not quite the same. I've lost my charm, and your voice is sore.
But it's okay, it's fine with me 'cause I have other friends to talk to me, and in this time of night I should be sleeping
(but I'm sleepless).
Be quiet. Everyone's dreaming.
Don't make a noise, or you will wake them.
But press your lips to my ear,
and softly whisper. Tell me that you'll stay here.