After we serve our nighttime tours,
we’ll break our fasts and strip the taps,
swallow the rivers, swim through doors,
dance the twelve step on basement floors
and dig our graves with bottle caps.

And when the moon drowns in the trees
and we’re down to a lonely dime,
we’ll make an altar of the breeze
and pledge our love to this disease,
a vow to one day at a time.