Tomorrow

When there’s nothing inside to make you go out.
We roll in the sheets, salaciously shout.
Times obsolete when love is around.
We couldn’t care less about the level of sound.
The neighbors shout back, annoyed with our life.
The old man downstairs berating his wife.
It’s Saturday morn, our clothes on the floor.
The air rushes in explaining some more.
About a world, we’ve forgotten today.
Tomorrow we die, that’s so far away.
We’ll lay here, exhaling the breeze.
Listen to wind that’s teasing the trees.
Cuz there’s nothing outside that’s better than in.
Let’s stay in our bed enjoying our sins.

Originally written in May of 2008