Should have known this would happen,
a passing of the touch and you’ve moved on.
Throw confetti on the ashes and watch the pieces burn.
Burn baby, burn until you get all your yah-yahs out –
until you get your antsy-pantsies out.
And then you’ll sing of the burning party
and the touching of the most impolite kind.
But we’ll just ignore the words and hum along,
because that’s all we’ve ever done.