This is such a lonely bed, with tired eyes at 4 a.m.
The TV set reminds me this is only a test.
The middle of the night can bring moments of uncertainty, but I can’t help but think.
Oh, if I could start all over again.
I’d empty my mouth of all the words left unsaid, swallow my pride and reach out my hand.
But can you trust a desperate man?
My clarity becomes a mess, as emptiness fills up my chest.
One bottle gives me sleep tonight, but two gives me rest.
Nights are long when hope is gone, but they say it’s darkest just before the dawn.
So I remind myself I don’t have to do this alone.
Oh, if I could start all over again.
I’d empty my mouth of all the words left unsaid, swallow my pride and reach out my hand.
But can you trust a desperate man?
When did I become this person I can’t trust?