Nighttime

The streetlamps are calling to me,
With hazy, soft-glow voices,
That ring out like bells in the urban grime,
Amidst piles of concrete and human waste.

The noise here is too much.
I like to drown it out.
The pressure here is too much.
I like to drink it down.

The streets are spinning madly,
With crowds upon crowds.
People with no faces.
Strangers.

The noise here is too much.
I like to drown it out.
The pressure here is too much.
I like to drink it down.

Oh, my, I think I'm drunk.
If not on the gin,
Then the troubles and stresses of life,
The words on the street signs are blurring now.

The crowds here are too much.
I like to drown them out.
The stress here is too much.
I love to drink it away.

I think I am stumbling home.
But I cannot be sure,
My mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour -
And then beating itself to death.

The lights here are too bright.
I like to shut them out.
The stink here is too much.
I like to drink it down.

I'm not stumbling home.
Instead, I've stumbled into another booze den.
I don't like myself - I want to wake up feeling good,
But instead, the ugliness remains.

The noise here is too much.
I have to shut it out.
The pressure here is too much.
I have to swig it down.

Je veux changer, mais je ne sais pas comment.