Nights like this, we do everything we do to forget all of our little tedious annoyances.
We waive our right to acknowledge them any further with stern resolve, and the radio plays.
It's so fortunate that all subjects were dropped behind some speaker pulsing, beating away in the night.
I can't be expected (on nights like this) to uphold any of your expectations.
On nights like this, we do everything we can to avoid one moment or the next.
Hiding out from friends, having sex with strangers. On nights like this, I'm in service of another.
Your face, your cold white stare, it's meaningless. What'd you expect on a night like this?
I waited for you, here, on any one of many nights like these, but time and time again,
Time waits for no man. So I'll retreat back to this bed of razors and thorns I've made.
I'll repeat your name to myself, on any night like this, over her shoulder, through the valley of her clavicle.
Her wrists are warm against my throat, what's in her head when she says "until next time?"
You can ask about the marks upon my skin on any other night, but not tonight,
A night like this. We're strangely entwined, the cost of these trysts will toll later, but my life,
Your lies, they'll unfold before us, and consequently, on nights like these,
You'll just have to wait your turn. You'll just have to get left, in turn.
Nights like this, what's this? Don't bother expressing your penitence.
I'm afraid of what we might miss in the shutter speed. You knew, you knew, you knew,
From the beginning.
That it was over.