We ride in separate cars, we ride into the darkest dark, a ghost county with accidental homes, 100 proof sleeping on our breath. Pretend that these are sober thoughts, and circumvent your cares, your wants, your charm is when the night inspires you to dance.

Twirl...twirl...twirl like you're free, because you're free.
Spin...spin...spin backwards, step softly to breathe.
Parked under lazy stars, we've arrived, as not minnows but sharks, leaving livers behind just beyond the reach of wisconsin's arms. Dad somehow soundly sleeps, as we get low and stomp our feet, the beat may make our knees feel weak, we'll refuel, and it runs on vodka.

Break our spines, leaning for the ashtray. Melt our words with warm beer and erase the cost of living, far too high for my taste anyway, so hey! Let's just die.

But no, oh no, we can't croak just yet, besides we've got a whole case left. Hold your glass high and remember to forget.

I am reverend of a distaste, begging young minds to contemplate, letting down the guards that keep us safe, and surrendering to the shimmy and the shake.

Perhaps I should deny all my outcries and just let this chorus line die, into the vacant night, we're so rouge, if we stop we just might explode.

Oh, oh, oh, my goodness gracious, my heart's beating so fast, might not make it. I'll leave it in the confines of the basement, alone by the microphone, to forever lead in chanting:

It's not a revolution if I'm not dancing.
man, i loved that. the way it shifted back and forth between stream-of-consciousness kinda things and blantant, stark reality.

as not minnows but sharks

maybe "not as", although the inversion is pretty strong anyway.