You're no good for scheduling but ideal for dancing.
While night tricks us into invincibility, whiskey tells us not to wait.
So educate me on the nonsense of foreplay to a friend's poetry,
And we'll lose our jobs over bongos and stale beer,
Trading tips for one second tears.

You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine,
I'll take a receipt for time lost between sheets,
While bruises take the place of scars.

Just as my dimples look more mature in the morning,
You sound better when your hands talk.
So I'll degrade a dollar for last night's sake
and the irony of grandpa in the morning.

Then we'll kiss what should be left on the floor,
And I'll keep you somewhere safe where I'm bound to lose you anyway.


I hope you find your keys :)