The Afterparty

When the last person leaves, and the silence rushes in
It's hard and sudden like a blast of wind
Tip the dirty dishes into the sink
Take a sip of someone's watered-down drink

And deflate, deflate
Onto whatever furniture will hold you
Let it enfold you

In the suicidal dark after a five o'clock sunset
Still so many hours to kill before you go to bed
You miss the people you're standing right beside
Eighty years of longing, then we die

Things we set our hearts on
All parading dumbly toward us to be born
With a fanfare of music
With acclamations
With decorations
All arriving cold and stillborn
To be mourned a space
And then replaced



Credits
Writer(s): Harrison Lemke
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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