when i get there, i've been hanging around for days. and when i climb the stairs, you're the first word that i say.
a-hey hey hey.
and when i get there, i'ma stumble drunk for days, and hope you hold your breath until you say, "go home."
you're only crazier than me when you're really really really really angry, like you are right now when you scream and shout and kick me out and say, "go home."
i don't know where the park begins and 66th street ends, at least not this late in the weekend. am i moving closer to you? would you meet me half way? you make me want to forget what other people look like, at least for tonight.