hold me like i'm the last beer at this party
before the sun begins to change
the opinion we have of each other

i'll call you stupid, and you'll call me dull
and we'll shut up somewhere
between angry and disappointed

smoke in my eyes, and my eyes on your breasts
resting like warn dusty pool balls
on a suburban table in some unfinished basement

i'll fall down the stairs, tear up my jeans
bleed a little, and complain silently
all next day, but for now, i want to hold you