On Your Birthday

I found a photograph.
The only one I have.
Can almost hear you laughing
on your birthday.

'Cause that was you and me,
back in '92 or 3.
Underneath the Marquee
on your birthday.

Seems so long ago,
but I still recall that show
and how you sang
loud as the band.

Someone took our picture.
We had one too many drinks.
Then we were walking back to your house
hand-in-hand.

With flowers in your hair,
I led you up the stairs.
And all your friends were there
on your birthday.

Dandelion wine
under incandescent light.
And everyone's invited
on your birthday.

I waited for a year,
and I wasted some tears,
imagining you'd
come back again.

But one day you wake up
and you're over the breakup.
But I find myself remembering
now and then.

We had elaborate plans
but short attention spans
and too many Black and Tans
back in those days.

Our once and future past -
it ended all too fast.
And nothing seems to last
except for birthdays.

Are you going out
on your birthday?

Will you think about me
on your birthday?