I Think You Were In My Profile Picture Once

I saw you from the bottom of the stairs
'Fore you knew I was coming
And though nervous and scared
I lingered on
I heard most things break
By the ends of these types of nights
So I'll force upon
Every word I brushed up on
Since knowing we won't speak like this again

You've got a certain who-knows-what about you
And I've got a small amount of time
To figure out what it is exactly and to whom does it apply?
But I know for a fact that these are broken nights
Covered in bottles with the stench of loss of life
And I know that it's quite
Heartbreaking we won't speak like this again