“Once we get to the end of this song, then it will begin again.” So you said in our bed. I was watching light slip through blinds to find your skin. “So take your medicine and I won’t ask where you’ve been. Live your lost weekend, I know you’ve wanted it. Get big, little kid. And I can't say why each day doesn’t quite fit the space we saved for it.” But if that space now demands that you throw up both your hands and call it quits... “Take your midnight trip. I know you’ve dreamed of it. Walk your sunset strip, because I think you’ve needed it to get big, little kid. But just remember that our love only got this good because of the younger days that you'd like to outstrip. So drink your cup down to the dregs and leave that club on shaking legs with another guy, but remember: I'm not him. Take your medicine and I won=t ask where you’ve been. Live your lost weekend, I know you’ve wanted it. Get big, little kid. And once we get to the end of this song, then another will b

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