I long for the city that I knew like my own hand. I long for the streets we walked so many times.
The long nights we spent outside. Cigarette-smoke that covered our faces and fears, all the wine we drank to forget tomorrow.
Sorrow, we never escaped your hands, just slipped away for a while. We, I, us and them. I am the reflection of you, the other part of nothing. A distant memory that fades away.