Blink

We spent our hours with each other,
Stuck in the mundane smell
Of countless cookie cutouts
That would otherwise be cooking
In the California sun,
But June Gloom has begun
And we're the only ones who see
There's more to life than hipster tees
Or skinny jeans that strangle knees
Or glasses made for those who can see
Just fine.
They're useless,
And stupid,
Just like this line.

But when the flood gates opened
And we were let in,
Only then did fanbased tempests begin.
Loud and crowded,
In a sea of glistening sweat,
We began to sway in every which way
Trying to say every line of the song
While trying to keep the air in our lungs
To let out another chorus.

It was the perfect storm.
With morals forlorn,
A new game was made
To see how long until your knees
Or your stomach gave.
All the while, the drummer drummed on
And we screamed in our ears as we sang along
In every pitch
In every key
On every note
On every beat
...My god, we were awful,
But we sure had soul.

The sweat in my clothes was mostly not mine.
I'd gulp some more air if I had strength and the time,
But there's just sweaty air, already been breathed
And cookies baked two over one-eighty degrees.