Sweet Sing Along, Three Hours Long

You step back one
But march on two more
Slowly but steadily,
We build our levees to bear the load
Of currents heavy though separated,
Those words you said you hated:
I won't be here next year.

So I draw theoretical tears
On the blueprint map,
Preemptive of a future near
And so I say what there is to say,
The unspoken truth
The decay of youth,
Just to get it out of the way,
And let life live until death,
Until our breaths reek with rich past
Aged like wine and fermented in time,
A love supreme
For a long in between.

So when none other does pass
Than the desire for responsive glass,
Pass the word to the grade school suckers,
I wish their reputation and pockets good luck!
We don't need a DJ,
We don't need chaperones.
Because all we need, we've got:
A dance party of our own.