I'm sobering up in cupid's ward tonight.   Vacuum's bliss. Oxygen's masks.  Back home: I'm writing this letter with broken arms.   I'm running all these miles to come up with your look, I'm addicted to alcohol to push my ego.   Am I completely mental? Speaking is such a damn habit that I almost forgot.   In denying my appearance I'll meet you in the next booze. Straight towards the abyss.   Did you know that you are so beautiful?   I'm fighting for things I can't reach. Are you worth it to kill my dreams?   Is this world going crazy or am I?