Sweet nothings bind us all together,

The promise of shared shelter from different storms

A wooden instrument held in the hands

Of one boy, barely a man

A tin can carried in the pocket of another,

Young enough to be my little brother,

Yet old enough to understand and bear witness to temptation

Flavored air fills her lungs, making her look more lost,

As alcohol tests the tolerance of another girl’s liver

The names of these substances, these chemicals, float around

As we convince ourselves it’s not that lethal,

He started using two years ago and look,

He’s still doing fine, isn't he?

This is how we justify events of every Thursday night,

As we dance and the newbies tiptoe

On and over legality’s thin, thin line