before the street lights go on
the best part of the day
is hoping that the lights
will never be lighted again
we were careless sometimes
when it meant having a good time
when the gin hit our face
there was nothing that we could deny
there were motions to trace
when we learned how to dance
as the music kept on
we became graceful black swans breaking free
all your life
when no one was looking
you and the shadows danced
so who let this empty glass fill?
shadows are stepped on
but they never said nothing about lives
when will these feathers fly?