It’s always 4 in the morning,
When the heart grows asunder,
when the stars all seem lonely,
separated millions of miles away.
But what about the 5 am insomniacs,
Emotionless as they are,
Sleepless still they stay,
Lying in wait for the next moonrise.
Don’t forget the midday daydreamers,
As they trade soul for passion,
Living a trade most envy,
But solemnly longing for more.