since the clock turned past tomorroe,
and the hands swiped off the dress
that she wore in her mindset north,
that shes seen in all of her dreams
Driving down sunset now,
a martini can sip, and a cocktail can talk
shes slipped off her past,
and speeding away her beat
the clubs vibrating their beats,
the lights , not showing empty seats
A promise is made,
somekind of key to tommoroes eye,
that she tries to bleed through the keyhole
and tries to whisper to the dead
Dance on with the drums,
and dream on for a future

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