You wore my clothes to work
And now I’m wearing the dress
of last night’s skin you shed, and left
on my living room floor this morning

When I talk about us
I always end up saying again, again
Because I’ve met my living proof of
those ride or die friends
people are always talking about

It’s really just been one sweaty,
rain-soaked, blanket-clad, beer sticky
sweeping embrace
standing on a porch, shouting in a thunderstorm,
hiding out on the couch

What do you call the opposite
of a fair-weather friend?
We’re the daily shit storm forecast
Brought to you by: mutual existential dread
a fierce loyalty, and a splash
of the ole razzle-dazzle

Tonight you locked my door behind you
with the key you’ve saved me with twice
I go to bed without checking 
thinking maybe it’s just about practice
in reaching out and holding on.