for some reason i love the repitition in the whole thing.
rebellion
we took chances
no concern for moral quality
we took chances
fighting tradition with spontaneity
we took chances
barefoot upon broken glass
the tired music battled our
unconventional dance
upon broken glass
we dined with the always-enticing
art of crossing fine lines
breaking promise
and imploding the mold define
as "normal," "sane,"
or perhaps "complacent"
stared down by blank eyes
windows to souls only more vacant
climbing the tightrope
and praying to get higher
landing flatfoot on the ground after
swan-diving off the chapel spire
we took chances
we weren't stuck at the bottom of a well
we took chances
we spoke about truth and art
and the desire to rebel
we took chances
emotions pressing lips
clinking of flukes or cups or flasks
smoke billowed out nostrils
and even parted lips
fingertips running freely
inward from awkward hips
we took chances
we learned to never thank others
for selfish acts
we were here for self-enjoyment
not a goddamn thing made to last
we shattered our cups and mugs and flasks
we took chances
and we still waltz upon broken glass
our fall will be graceful
from the tip-top chapel spire'
and then we'll fall fall fall
land flatfoot--no recover required
we'll take our hours
that turn into days
and give ourselves new roles
in tired mundane plays
we'll clink our glasses
and let our hands caress
and continue rebelling
'till our sanity lost
crossed lines theft.
