toggle menu

Goodtime Boys - Breathe

As the silver tongues skin the young and white whispers wash words through your brow, I slow the tide and think of whys, when I should be thinking in hows. Somehow now is the time that always escapes me. The truth is never good enough as we watch the world burn. Our skin grow older and grey; do we like it this way? What doesn’t kill us makes us no younger as we smoulder in despair that shows us everywhere we’re not. The passing of time is not inclined to consider the risks that you took to be here, standing where you stood, with a smile that shook. Without reason. Without certainty, but questioning nothing all the same. All the same