Blue Receipt Toast

A blue receipt on the museum floor

Left where the shadows stretch across the door

A cheap plastic cup,

a quiet toast

To the plus-one who became the ghost

Of a guide in the dark,

leading the way

Through the sacred halls where the statues pray (ahhhh)

We are small in the high arch ceiling (ohhhh)

But we hold to a sacred feeling

Raise your hands in the holy dark! (yeah)

Every spark is a lasting mark!

We won't fade like a printed receipt

Standing tall in the bittersweet!

Only the paint and the marble remain To carry the weight of

our beautiful pain (raise your hands) (in the

dark)