Funeral

Sit by your wineglass like a funeral
a kitchen just like a pew
never thought I’d be here like this
spilled my soul out
to a dirty floor,
sold my soul out
to a revolving door

and I can’t stop thinking
as I look at the ceiling where
champagne has wet and dried
where celebrations came to die

what if I had put my plate
a little to the left,
what if I had done would you said,
would we be in the right place?
would we be sleeping in bed?

A 30 second window,
now I sleep alone instead.