Well, champagne glamorously glints in glasses,
the cuisine slowly becomes cold mush trampled in
and around the ground and
everybody turns home-ways and bed-ways and right-ways and wrong-ways.
You never showed up and I fall back.
Sometimes I wish you'd ran away with me and we drowned ourselves in lavishness and luxury.
Leaking opulence from every orifice.
But then I remembered I don't have a job.
My head is so high up in the clouds, I'm choking on airplane scars in the sky.
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