The mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks like shit.

The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won’t exist.But what’s so easy in the evening, by the morning is such a drag.I’ve got a flask inside my pocket we can share it on the train.If you promise to stay conscious I will try and do the same.We might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain.But what was normal in the evening, by the morning seems insane.And I’m not sure what the trouble was that started all of this.The reasons all have run away but the feeling never did.