I guess the 'half empty glass' side of you got to you before I could.

Well, champagne glamorously glints in glasses
the cuisine slowly becomes cold mush
trampled in and around the ground
and everybody turns home-ways and bed-ways
and right-ways and wrong-ways.
You never showed up and I fall back.
Sometimes I wish you'd ran away with me and we drowned ourselves
in lavishness and luxury.
Leaking opulence from every orifice.
But then I remembered I don't have a job.

My head is so high up in the clouds, I'm choking on airplane scars in the sky.