Saturday night
the summer is here
under clothes
hands dissappear

buttons slip
they've gone stray
with them thoughts
have gone away

too far to see
from the back seat
where sleeping is the enemy

in our hands
theres more sense
butchered words
dont understand

to ourselves
our skin sticks
our palms sweat
our teeth click

flashing glimpses
do not see

when daylight is the enemy

i can barely
see your blue eyes
i can barely
make them out

its alright,
in this realm

your mouth tastes perfectly like ciggarettes

its okay
it is fine

theres nothing, just one thing on our mind

saturday night
the summers here
the sound of breath
is in our ears
yes the coast
is completely clear

to wonder, we dissappear.