My derailed train of thought, I'll pick up the pieces tomorrow,
With a bottle of red, in my head, what can go wrong,
After a dream I'll pay the price,

There is light in being single, and light in love,
A light of love will do its best, but tear at the seam,
When breached a distinction is made, light bulbs or candles,

You will make the choice, which one we can be,
Natural yet flickering, unable to last past the dawn,
Or shining bright and constant, yet borrowing from grid,

We'll know after the morning smoke, what your eyes will say,
I'll be the man and make you some coffee, but what will your eyes say,
After our eyes met, and you took my light -shit-what did your eyes say?