Sweet, why ever did you give in?

Sweet, why ever did you give in?
The sun that newly lights the curtain,
Oh that it could be the sunset
With you'n I in the bar again!
Your hair brushed -
Not spread across the pillow,
And all that lies revealed -
Again so neatly dressed.
And the night - oh that it hadn't happened, yet.

The beer tasted of release.
Down the table a marketing type called,
"Here's to the team! We're up and running!"
As I drank I quietly added,
"And here's to a life of dreary maintenance."
Across the table you laughed,
"That's our penance for success.
No number of birds in the bag
Is worth a single one on the wing."
Our eyes met across the table,
You looked down, perhaps because of the sun
That shown through a window.
I knew when next I pressed,
For whatever reason,
You'd say yes.

Lucky is the politician who's always running,
Lucky is the greyhound behind his fake rabbit,
He chases, but there's no chance he'll catch it.
Lucky is the explorer,
For each new bay, when it proves a river,
By disappointing, prevents disappointment.
You open your eyes
And I think that perhaps Henry Hudson
Should've given it up
And built a house on Long Island.