interior: dreamer's lounge
sweet smoke drifts hazy then curls, then settles around your hair. finger, then another finger, then cigarette-- just like bowie said. the starman himself's in the corner shaking hands with a half-starved hooker, drunk and cheap and dead behind one eye. the look in it says i shoulda let you die in dixie. stargazer, that eye says, shut your whore mouth. i'm draped over a couch, guitar forgotten in my lap, and i cant move much-- not with the way youre looking at me over your can of miller lite. angry drunk on the world's saddest beer sittin pretty in your hand. one wrong move and i'm fucked. its danger on velvet and if budweiser ain't enough for your bad nights, lord knows it ain't enough for mine. when i turn to my left there's nothing, when i blink there's a bottle of jack. smudged into the wall and sinking away. my name's scrawled on it, stargazer now, and thick music's crawlin up the walls and curlin with the smoke. honey on desire, opulence. the neon blue spells "dreamer's lounge" and i throw my bud heavy at the overflowing trash heap and miss it bad-- the beer and the trash, my eyes ain't focused in days. the bottle shatters and so do you. you're sobbin hazy into the glass again, on your knees and desperate, just the way you like yourself with just enough silk between skin and shards. it's more than me and my torn up jeans could beg for but i'm on the ground next to you anyway. face down in the gutter, dizzier than ever, again. its a tired story. nothing new under the swirling sun painted on the ceiling, all that god honoring bullshit. there's a shrine to him by the bar, never-gone cocaine under his picture that you only notice when youre drunk enough to beg, when control is the easiest thing in the world and the farthest thing away. when you're slipping further and drowning in this dance with me. you call the shots and i take em, stargazer in the dreamer's lounge, same as it ever was. somehow i'm sprawled out on the couch again. you leave even though the door is locked, lay a white lighter down on my lounging chest. if im lucky, my eyes wont focus tomorrow, either.