1 (sequence)

Never drunk enough for home.

Counting lonely by all the handsome men.

His status defined with every tie hung.

Wasted. Regretting what we won't become.

A barroom hero limping his last path.

A sorrow of young smiles not held firm.

2 (outer to mid)

Only self hate remains firm.

Every lesson a jumble we brought home,

or was that the tumble? We made our path,

a trail of broken bottles and dried men.

The hangover warning what we've become.

Keeping ceilings clear of stiff objects hung.

3 (on trimodulo)

Text messages where hopes hung.

A litany of grievances kept firm.

All their worst accusations we become,

for the fun of that run dashing towards home.

With all that we spit, we worked to be men.

So that we might share a smooth pristine path.

4 (three apart)

Clasping hands along one path.

Before the first sip our hearts there hung.

For eyes and dreams long for trustworthy men.

Even broken our convictions stay firm.

We can smile once more if he brings us home.

In his warm arms we arise, we become

5 (suspension chords)

best of all we could become.

A joyous race defining a bright path,

our newfound purpose, a man worth one home.

No matter the trials, his jury's hung

'til we speak through eyes that weep and spine firm.

That is the love that we crave from our men.

6 (evens up; odds down)

We slur and suffer for men.

Because the blush is the bleed we become

when our last harmony settles to firm.

The tougher the climb, the richer the path.

We'll spend days in his shine. Our selfies hung

on the walls of a drab or dusty home.

7 (envoi)

We are but men blazing a fiery path.

Brave we become, no matter the banners hung.

For our love is firm to forge the warmest home.