a starlit night a darkened door
desire that is only as old as a four day week
and pressed against the golden grain
they're not feeling lonely
and not feeling moved to speak
the unmade bed could clear their heads of rattles and tone
the sweetest kiss this latest one goes straight to the bone
they likely know whatever comes, it comes and it goes
but it's better than sleeping alone
another sun a smoking gun and hands that are slowly
making the rounds on a scar
the nervous laugh and undertones of two who are only
remembering where they are
will it stick or be unstuck by battles and voices
old conclusions often fall for too many choices
they likely know whatever comes, it comes and it goes
but it's better than sleeping alone