Your hand slipped in mine and we consented, damp fingers loosed
The sultry night burned my nostrils welding white cotton to dark skin
That neon buzz lit the star strewn boulevard and I faced you
And we knew, like the etched idols below our feet that it had passed.
Our golden age to be trodden and worn in the squalid streets
Layers of new years heaped until ours are too deep to recall
The things that mattered so much, a sepia wash of memoirs
Sumatra coffee at daybreak and your key in the lock
So so love, turn off the lights and gaze into the yawning sky
Every movie has an ending and we should depart before the credits
Next time Hollywood love.