Do you remember that rectangular table?
You would tell stories,
we all filled with joy and laughter
Time flied, days and months preceded for another
Friends had left until I cleaned the mess the day after
I'm still sitting in the same place on the same chair on the corner
Roaring in my head, I can still hear the voices
Nevertheless I want to remember that a cup of Americano was your morning and a glass of Merlot was your night
I guess you've eaten less today
However you'll drink more tonight
Is this longing for nothing or what?
Am I fooling myself or not?
After the crowds breaks up
Sharp sorrow and grief start ascending
I know nothing my beloved but all I know is the shit they called "love" doesn't have a happy ending
