apat na taon

now i wonder as i am sliding under the subtle control of the drink
if i have enough left in the bottle to say all the things i’m thinking?
i’ve been practicing my exit plan, nervously checking time
i still don’t know how i’ll survive
'cause dear, four years hurts less than five
and it’s never a good time
i am sorry for all my crimes
and the wandering gaze of my unfaithful eyes
it's clear i am an awful mess
I had to get this off my chest
soon the only thing i'll have left
is your memory and promises never kept