Saturday night begat Sunday fire,
the morning bloodroses in the clouds
each one the chariot of an angry pagan god
chased out by one true passion.
This sunrise is only a decoration
unlike the one before
which may have meant life or death
--we've all woke up dead
in time for the fire to burn
it's mark of one more day alive.
this one sunrise is for your eyes only,
enchanted and drunken as they are
shot glass whiskey barfloor dance.
The sun sets us to burn.
The floors are on fire--
we are drunken well-wishers
casting pennies into darkness
you threw them for luck--
I threw them
for one endless weekend
Sundayrise tells us to try again
Written By Eric Bachman