The Subway Train

In four in the morning, I take the subway train back home

It’s a familiar feeling, being drunk and alone

It’s not sad, and I wouldn’t say it’s happy

It’s simply there, deep yet empty

My thoughts as company, passengers at my side

They ask hard questions, usually at this time

They ask of desires and they ask of dreams

They ask how are you and what do you mean

They want to know things which cannot be said

Save it for later guys; I simply want to go to bed

It’s four in the morning and I’m tired on the subway train

It’s four in the morning and I think I could use a change

The funny thing about being drunk

Is that I can’t tell what’s profound

And what’s simply bunk