i know somewhere you're laughing
enjoying yourself
flying with torches
in a circus of wealth

holding clean glasses
filled with expensive champagne
letting the world in
but not letting it stay

calling me once
on each month's second sunday
just to turn down a drink
with the same "no, but one day"

the fragile contortions
i hid in your dream
are breaking up softly
with the same "maybe it's him"