Saudade Bebê

Three in the morning a message arrives
One of those that feels like a dirty trick
The classic blow of the early hours
That makes us drop our guard, clothes, and shame

I shouldn't reply
But hey, it's done
In the message exchange
You typing
And me deciphering the cunning

Longing baby
You drank, right?
I want to see you
You didn't kiss anyone, right?

How come you don't catch this train?
I think no, but my finger writes: Come