The heart is glass fragile

That's all you hear them say

As they sit and wait for daybreak

Engrossed into their nicotine waste.

Are we a bunch of dream spinners?

Trying to weave our lonliness with fate.

Because the conclusion of our search,

Only ends with fruitless taste.

I'm sure sleeping with a face I won't remember,

puts doubts on love existing.

For a universe based on fantasy,

it's the only lie we know our lives keep missing.