To another dinner with Jennie

sometimes I speak a bitter dialect
and the words form straight from memory
some dreary dance I keep repeating
each step planned out carefully
and we utter words of cherished faith
waiting for destiny

but the lines for lives are far from straight
and the bend looks fairly steep ahead
where the light still creeps from up above
though long after the sun's descent
I often wonder why I put in this much effort
like I'm aiming for regret

but I tend to function best when I'm in debt
it's a joke; as if smooth sailing will delay me
I need the winds to be constantly changing
I chase the slightest ache in my being
it's the only time I know what I'm feeling
in love while wasted on wicked intent