to the nightly house band's singer
squeezing drops of ecstasy
from the words she's worn out long ago
but still can't bear to leave
like a drip-drop through a needle
to the burnt-out shells of veins
it drains her
but it dulls her mental pain

to the would-be novel writer
coming steadily off his hinge
as he's pouring out his soul
amidst a coke-and-caffeine binge
with hands that shake so violent
tick-a-tapping on the keys
weaving webs
to catch his quickly-fading dreams

so take my hand
and walk a little longer if you can
cuz your beauty and your smile
they'll all fade after a while
to a strangely introspective point of view

now each ring of smoke, each firestick
each empty bottle fills
a poorly-chose vocation's
cheap obligatory thrills
we may think it's just a temporary
moonlight cabaret
but it always plays the same
the following day

the characters in stories
they all seem to have it made
each tragedy they meet
still brings them closer to the day
when everything is reckoned
and when everyone is saved
and the valleys and the mountains rise and fall
to become the same

so take my hand
and walk a little farther if you can
cuz your beauty and your smile
will all fade after a while
to a strangely introspective point of view

now the coldest calculation
gives the most extraordinary buzz
and the worst habit to break
is just what everybody does
but the best rationalization
gets us farther than we'd think
it's at least enough
to keep us from the brink

so the myth of one's own goodness
satisfices for a while
like a poorly-polished surface
with a bowtie and a smile
but each existential crisis
brings us closer to the truth
that everything around us, when it dies
is born anew