Feel the beat, disco/ball endeavour – brutishly treasured by a hundred-thousand trust-thirsty people
Their festival for mild and hungry souls
We have been watching in these embellished upon wings, never singing just murmuring to oneself
Older folk, memory-thrilled and generationally handicapped
Trapped by our very own inability to see in a straight and honest, giving line
As the crow flies, more so
We may lie, yet we feed by the same seed
Always
Let them be as we once were,
This surround-sound caressing has been something quite rightly spectacular – she sees him and wishes for the very most in the whole wide world right now
“Break my bones but you won’t see me fall
The rising tide will rise against them all…”
Clash your reflective glasses and soar to toast
You can and shall amount to magic amidst glistening, pristinely pressed this…
… Bottle of bubble-troubled champagne is your magnum and I, your envious aside threatened demise
Her red-ribboned dress takes his everything and makes his mind unearth a brand new love, heavenly feels
You are bliss personified, by these realising, bespoke and smoke-ingested eyes
Our words only ever hurt those with dreadful failure to adhere to their own decisions
Dance like you’ve been watching only ever yourself
Please… Take me by my teenage hand again and make me reminisce outlandish
