We put the dark light in,
turn the stereo on,
we've kicked out all the chairs,
and I'm complimenting the suit Tyler wears.

The summer sun, the breeze,
all your trees,
that stuff is for the bees.

Here it's intensely personal conversations,
with brown-eyed girls we've never seen before.
Here it's slow dancing to early Tom Waits,
and leaving bread crumbs of shameless hints.

The freedom is found
when we under-sleep
and over-drink,
when we fall on the carpet
and laugh because it
shouldn't bring us this delight.

Tyler will make up mixed drinks,
and if he destroys himself tonight,
well, I'll be in the front row,
with a pillow and a joke.

The worried eyes are limits.
An unbridled gravity
keeping everyone down,
and tonight they aren't invited.

Our minds will spiral up,
as our bodies cling to the couch,
we'll talk of old friends and
dying relatives,
we'll swear forgiveness,
and be surprised if the
sun decides to rise,
we only live for the night.