un dernier verre (pour la route)

come, sit at the table under october's able skies, once we'd seen eye to eye, i'd known that i'd pass you by, and i tried. the bell's chime seven times, completed at nine, the world moves on, i find, no, but i, learned of time by your hands. and in shallow waters, then, i learned not to swim but to lie, i await for none, ten or twenty to burn out, i insist on doubts, we're already laying on the glass, the glass.