Hello, you-know-who.  Let's have another
Stay-up-all-night-and-spill-your-guts session.
Would you like to do that, or would you rather
Wait untill this mess will somehow lessen

And disappear without our participation?
I think I am beginning to learn the lesson:
If all one eats is unripened fruits of imagination,
Sooner or later she will get indigestion.

Can I undo every morning and every evening
At every place we have ever been at?
You know, you-know-who, every time I think I am leaving,
But whatever I try to become, you are already in it.

And while I understand that you should leave this behind
(Being far as you are, and still stuck in the middle)
With every single part of my twisted mind,
I wish 
to remain your star 
that will never dwindle.