before the street lights go on   the best part of the day   is hoping that the lights    will never be lighted again   we were careless sometimes   when it meant having a good time   when the gin hit our face    there was nothing that we could deny   there were motions to trace   when we learned how to dance   as the music kept on    we became graceful black swans breaking free   all your life   when no one was looking   you and the shadows danced   so who let this empty glass fill?    shadows are stepped on   but they never said nothing about lives   when will these feathers fly?