Our empty room, our deserted street   We intersect, overlap   Unacquainted, but not unfamiliar   It's tenuous, but not uncomfortable   We speak of petty differences, our tongues tied in dialect   In this room, it's always night   All shadows and darkened alleyways   All those songs of alienation and loss more or less add up to this   The length of our sentence simply meant that we convinced ourselves that we knew ourselves   But I only knew a sleeping body, you an empty bed   I knew the cover of a book that neither of us read   We knew of the smoke and mirrors, but not the trap doors   We both "wake up to an empty night and tears for two"