The Room Is Drunk

Written by Chuck Young on November 22, 2003
Arranged by SB Stokes on January 30, 2013
Published in Issue 006

The room is drunk. 

             There's nothing.

More sad than staying. 

             The same: there's nothing.

Scarier than needing, to change, I'm searching. 

             For something.

Bigger than myself, because I know. 

             There's something out there.

That's better. 

             And that's waiting.

For my cells to stumble.

Upon my DNA will be "today", but it'll mean "yesterday". 

The past speaks: "Louder than words! Tease your powdered nose, Ladies!"

Rooms of ladies! Bars! 

This night is drunk. This town is the same. 

             And there's nothing. 

Sadder tattered table cloths on tattered table tops. Hold your drink closer. 

             To your heart, there's something better out there. 

Waiting for me to stumble. Upon, I'm constantly searching. 

             Because I'm constantly empty. The emptiness of your memory, 

of me. 

             We are nothing.

Of what we used to be, there's no remnants. Of the love you might have had? 

             In your heart? For me?

             We are changed. 

My stomach pregnant with drink, but my feelings... 

             Stay the same. 

             I need something bigger than this. 

Mortality: a desperate vitality.