At five in the morning
We don’t know just what we’re after
We curse at the sunrise
We follow the laughter
At five in the morning
We’re all friends in low places.
That look
in your eyes
Tells me I’m a bastard
There’s nothing like harmony for flirting with
disaster
I’d spit if I had some spit
(I washed it all away)
You give me the bullets
I will shoot for days and days.
Remember the time
In the
We pickled our insides
And sat on some thumbtacks
We laughed till our faces hurt
We kissed till we were sore
We carried each other’s scents
But not any more.
At five in the morning
We go busting down the sidewalk
Alive with aromas
Hiding behind the small talk
At five in the morning
The light pours out of me.
Don’t tell anyone
But I got serious issues
My head is a pumice stone
Surrounded by tissues
Sometimes the words I use
Are caustic and corrosive
Sometimes the thoughts I have
Are crowded with explosives.
But all around now
We’re feeling friendly lightning
No horrible breathy sounds
Like Bread or Five for Fighting
Not quite the olden days
(If they were here at all)
You give me a look
And I go bouncing off the wall.
At five in the morning
It rhymes with
It feels like the ocean
It might be Delilah
At five in the morning
We’re swimming in a whirlpool.
No fury at night
Can match the hell of daybreak
It hunts like a landslide
It eats like an earthquake
What will it do to us?
No shadows for protection
I’ll see the daggers you have
Thrown in my direction
‘Cause at five in the morning
We’re all desperate for an answer
And at five in the morning
We all think we’re good dancers
But at five in the morning
We all smell like cigarettes.
© 2006 John
Brocato