It was only partly cloudy when we showed up to the dance. Polished, striding slick in all our style. Lucky buckeyes stashed in pockets, rabbits' feet clutched in our hands we marched up to that fancy fence and asked, "When does the fun begin?"
It had only started raining when our escort let us past the gate and led us on toward the door. But I tripped on my own shoelace, fell behind and watched you pass. Your smile turned to sour salt and ash. You looked back and you laughed.
Count your friends up, count your digits and your achy, sagging limbs. Make sure none of them are missing before you try to go swim. 'Cuz the rain is getting thick now and this scene is getting sick.
Wretch me up. Soak me down right to the quick.
Thought somehow it could be saved. Preserved or salvaged from decay. Decidedly unjustified to chance.
But I bought these fancy shoes with my last dime, got all these moves. So waltz me off, stage right, with all the other trash.
The door was swinging inward, blocking your form from my view, closing to a slant of yellow light. Windows brightened golden inside; out here ink night, black and blue. I saw you next through window panes as you cavorted with the lords.
The rainwater's slashing downward, raging cold against this face. Curse escapes through blunted, yellow teeth. Among finery you are dancing. Here, I shiver in drenched rags. luck charms fell from fingers to the dregs. When does the fun begin?
Count your friends up, count your digits and your achy, sagging limbs. Make sure none of them are missing before you try to go swim. 'Cuz the rain is getting thick now and this scene is getting sick.
Wretch me up. Soak me down right to the quick.
We scrawled out this stupid story 'til the pens fell from our hands-- 'til exclamation points were dented, bent and rent; until we'd asked, "What's the final tally, mate?"
Now, this bad and greasy hair is hanging low over this face. This ******, used up body droops and slouches toward its age...
And the rain is like no bitter ex's invectives ever taste.