Drunk Talk

It's spring here in the city
And we are having fun!

Pass me the bottle, dear friend
And what was that joke again?
Oh yes, me too, I am afraid
But what's the point, you know
The future is at least months ahead

Yes I miss him, yes I miss him, too
Yes, I am angry and frustrated
With my pitiful self, still
But the night is young, so is the season
So are we, and maybe not for long

Don't you think that I dream of his eyes?
Eyes are the door to the soul, someone said
Oh, please, there is no such thing as soul
Beautiful eyes though, a beautiful blue

Then again there is the story with the lips
There are so many stories with them
All having an annoying question mark
Hanging around, 'what if...'
One day I'll carve each one of them
From all the pictures I still keep
And look if they match, they probably will...
All except one, of course
But yeah, love is sacred, I know that
Just tell me then, what about the lips?

Sorry, I got distracted again
Yes, the passing girl was lovely, indeed
How about if we open the next bottle?
Shouldn't we move closer to the music yet?
Let the past sleep in its cave
Let the future stay where it is
Over the mountains, over the ocean, whatever
Let's have a little fun, while we still can