the sky lights up brilliantly and my eyes right the wrongs written for three weeks. the only piece keeping me on the street is my feet tattooed to the shadows and shoes. the only figure at the same altitude as my head will be my expectations. any doubts about us not wildin' out will be squashed when the bottle starts passing around. voices tell me that my choices will give me hell but my buddy Bud light, he'll yell back too loud to be drown out. senses weakened, we smoke beer and drink cigarettes til we sneak into cemeteries and the ghosts leak into our socks. we speak in shocking dialect that we'll regret when the sun is met by skyline but tonight we shine like the stars that nod their heads to the music of a good ******* weekend and this feeling, i hope i never lose it. love will be our beacon.