it is my own bar, midnight.
the clock just started a new round for a day.
you are drinking whisky. you are bad at that.
and you know, the whole hell does not matter.
because it is just you and me. and white wine.
i hate white, but we were out of red again, nah.
you are feeding me a raw meet and i am so happy.
because my family can not stand you a mile within.
but they are sitting across and playing the oldest game.
of what and whatsoever.

they are my all as unseparated as my tattoes.
but i love you more. i will always love you more.