Titanic.

Mistakes have their traits,
and recite their own trends.
We're scratching our hives to the surface,
with an iceberg ahead.

Two lovers aboard with a pair of wings,
and too drunk and in love to bother.
Their last song is playing by some strings
from some hearts in the sand.

Mouth to mouth,
ear to ear,
tounge in cheeks,
the salty air;
we count ourselves lucky.

A compass is bending
towards the horizon.
The curves of your body,
are what I have my eyes on.
There's a valley for every peak.

Swallow the scotch
and tell me the future,
at least how you'd like to see it.

If you can remember in the morning,
show me what you saw.
For now is all we've got.