Hammered at the Housewarming

There's a silence that only exists alone
In the third floor bathroom of the SF Moma
And there's something in the eyes in the mirror you never noticed
And you're trying to figure out if that acid is working
Cause the German impressionists brought tears to your eyes
When the details were higher resolution than real life
When the straw and acrylic melted all of your woes away
Regarding how this is your last weekend living in the Bay
So you spent it alone taking drugs bought in Golden Gate
Trying to glean meaning from 2010 Ezra Koenig
But the lyrics that start Diplomat's Son just so perfectly
Describe where your life is three weeks before twenty-three
Now everyone says that they'll drive up to visit me
So long as I get them all hammered at the housewarming
And by then it'll seem stupid to be sad to be leaving
Cause all we did was get drunk and get brunch in the morning

Now my friends don't seem to be thinking about getting married
Which makes more sense than making agreements
With your fifty-year-old self where you say 'okay you get twenty-three
And I'll work the desk job, I'll fill out the 1040'
And I'll try to make sure her life is better than it would be
And I'll try to make sure she doesn't regret that French party
And I'll lose all the bros in exchange for posterity
In exchange for not ever sadly regretting
How wistful you were at nineteen and twenty
When you got a tattoo and had dreams of world traveling
In exchange for photos of the Andes and India
That sees you and her smiling and meaning it at thirty-one
And not ceasing turning up, and trying to have some fun
Although thirty years out fun seems like a construction
Put together by Google to sell simulacrums
Vonnegut bangs the earth from a coffin in Illium