If it were not so slick, it would have been gruesomly painful
On this hurried way of mischief, the undertow of wet, seeped, alcohol laden
Standing crooked by the wayside hollow of small hours sly warning
It walks below the edges of drifting snow and drunken laughter
Reflected in the side way windows too elegant to purchase
too laden with gold and memories of a people who couldn't
The sippery stairs holding lovers in thoughtful corners, in oversized love jackets that may be grown into on some lucky day
Friends dance too close for public comfort, drugs slide down inside of boots, down tongues, down the river, dead as night
Police stand guarding themselves with tight, strong voices as if the wall they talk over be too tall to ever get out of
Young girls parade thier happy legs in heels that pick the wood broken glass floor, and taughter in hip swings and colliding aromatic hair before thier pair
It shouldnt ever be day...I should always have more to put on the bar...your hand should stay around my waist...this song should never end...I should never go to sleep...my cup should be full...and you , you look just like my sweet love making...who said it was true?
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