I know you heard me talking about you with my friends,

But you don’t understand—that’s when I had the bends.

I left the darkness, I left the cold current of nineteen-ninety-five!—

I was just remarking about how you feel when I feel like I’m alive…

It don’t matter, they won’t remember this tomorrow—

It’ll get lost between their sexiness and sorrow.

Just look around you; there’s not a soul in sight, the ambience is real,

My temple’s pounding. Let’s talk about this when I forge’ to feel.

Just let me wet your lips before I crash on the bed;

One minute longer and I’ll feel less alive than dead.

I am not talking like I should but I did more than get drunk tonight,

There is something about that orange glow that makes it so hard to fight…

You’re so unselfish waiting for me to tell you why!

If only I was sober, I’d try to sculpt a lie.

You are the first one I ever waited forever to kiss under sheets;

I was so thirsty tonight it reminded me to tell of you and Keats:

“O, for a draught of vintage!” “I have to go home soon”;

“I’m just half-drunk without her.” “Oh, can’t you just ass-ume?”

We’re just more open; we keep our share of secrets but not the pleasant ones.

Of course they joked when they see I’m so taken I have to rely on puns…

I know you hurt when I talk about you with my friends,

But you don’t know, somehow that’s how all this transcends;

If you’re in darkness they’d know you’re the same as those girls from ninety-five,

But since you aren’t now they know how I feel now you make me feel alive.