All the women and their silver wigs,
The men and lonely songs that follow their drinks,
There are handles here to keep you from falling off,
And shared cheap reasons to hold your ground.
You can ask for your dose of chaos on the rocks,
And gaze into the eyes of the stranger who wants you to talk,
Rub some glitter into the pit of your palm,
And call them stars when the silver wigs drop.
This dance of complexity is the order of my life,
The world is a raging bar that churns,
The world is six walls and a hundred feet on your chest,
Find a prayer and pick your corner to burn.