It's 3:57 in the morning, I know it 'cause I just passed by a payphone that told me so.
It caught my attention because it rang about 3 or 4 times, I'm not sure?
(Anyway... I didn't answer...)

I was way too [bad word] and lost into "Ulver's Perdition City"
To [bad word] acknowledge what was going on.

And prior to that particular insignificance, I had lost all senses of time & space

(I'm alone and the subway docks are [bad word] deserted by the Metropolis's natives
Closing my eyes for a second, I could've sworn I heard tumbleweeds, rolling on the other side of
the track... )

Then I saw a girl, only a child to my poor tired [bad word] after what might have been fragments of my life...
Porcelain doll, a permanent scar on the smooth face of Depression.

(The phone is ringing again, breaking trough my illusions,
Leaving me to witness an impenetrable view upon boredom itself.
Could this call save me?
Is it salvation on the other end of the line?
Or just a mere attempt to disturb my concentration?
Still, this will have to wait.)

It shines; I'm sore and inspired...
Scribbled upon the wall, you can easily read; Amy was here, 07-12-1980
Answering, I simply wrote back; Hope was here... and quickly left, 02-10-2005

I've narrowed it down to its simplest core.
And I know what's required of me now...
There are no parallels in my mind... no subtleties.

And [bad word] this phone is still ringing?
It'll be the last time and I'll still ignore [bad word] 

For once I think I'll be noticed, by doing something concrete & visible,
As of tomorrow... hundreds of humans will be late for work.