And, yes, I know what it means. . .
All parties come to an end, they have to.
The last bottle is drained and you're left with a mouthful of ashes. The bathroom sink is blocked and overflowing, a warm morning breeze blowing in through the broken window. The honeymoon is over and the salad days are no longer green. You get off your arse and charge into the future. That is what you do.