I think that's enough.

It’s only been a few days,
Long, dreary, sorrowful nights to complete those days
I’ve became mediocre as to convince pleasantly busy.
I don’t understand walking on seems impossible to do. 
I don’t understand how there seems to be no one better for me.
I don’t understand why you can’t see.

It’s five o’ six, and all I can do,
Is write some more, of what I remotely think of you.

It’s five o’ seven ,
And all there is to say,
Are soft words you won’t hear anyway.

Can’t you just mean the smiles, placed on your sorrow face?
Or is it too much, to move toward the time meant for space?
It’s five-ten, and I’m searching for you,
To your house, to your room.
Please wake up, please do it soon!

My heart is remorseful, and I’ve crossed the limitation.
You wouldn’t wake up, you let me fall behind,
The conception, I’m wasting my time.
Maybe to you, but you are worth every second,
Each smile made my whole day shine.
Vibrantly.
I guess it’s time to turn back home,
Time to hold back the glances toward your slender face.

It’s five eighteen, I should lay in my own bed to cry.