11 p.m.; who cares? Honestly, it seems like the perfect time to chat.
My brain is dead; you can say what you wanna say and I'll just nod.
I'll go, "Hmm...", if I disagree, but nothing else.
Who dares to start up an argument that late at night?
11 p.m.; who cares? It will end soon.
The shackles will clamp around my ankles again.
I will return to the cage, but this will be the last time.
I'll go in and leave again; gloriously victorious.
11 p.m.; who cares?
It is the end of my late nights, for it is time to rise up early again.
Exercise routines don't get themselves done; also,
The peace of the mornings only last so long.
Guess you'll just stay a time in my mind.
We'll never be friends.
You are just some daily checkpoint; reached after I already laid down my head to rest.