A Toast

Stare at the silver of an empty glass

Under the use of a gift you can't get back

Time spent on highways north of home

Hiding a sixty-five in heavy stone

My mind is a kiss that's soaked in beer

And not as a change of heat in the simmer air

But even in the cold I can almost feel

Your hands in my hair and mine on the steering wheel

What are we now?

Hunger satisfied

Champagne toast towards an honest cry

An eye turned to spring or an oncoming sunrise

An absence of pain or a poison that's mostly self-prescribed

Are we just the silence, pal?

Are we just the painted clouds?

Are we slowly fading down

Behind the reddest doubt?

Are we just a bastard hope

As we're lowered into the ground?

While the day just turns the page

And lets the light burn down

Stare at the silver of an empty glass

Under the use of a gift you can't get back

Time spent on highways north of home

Hiding a sixty-five

One last goodbye