I saw you from the bottom of the stairs before you knew I [bad word] 
And though nervous and scared, I lingered on
I heard most things break by the ends of these types of nights
So ill force upon every word I’ve [bad word] up on
Since knowing we wont speak like this again

You gotta’ certain who knows what about you
And I gotta’ small amount of time
To figure out what it is exactly and to whom does it apply,
But I know for a fact that these are broken nights,
Covered in bottles with the stench of a loss of life,
And I know that it's quite heartbreaking we wont speak like this again.