Brooke Bentham All My Friends Are Drunk
D'you think you know your Sunday self?
There is not a pressure
Feel like you are not in your body
Blissful but not numb
I can feel tired, it does not burden me
Sometimes it's like I don't exist
Peaceful skin on skin
Everything feels how it should
All my friends are drunk
Haven't been wasted in months
Which is why we never speak, too
Falling out of touch
Do you think they understand it, too
That wishful longing for what was
Or is it all a simile?
Quiet, but nothing grew
I miss home, but I also learned
How to create homes in places that I go to
Starved of touch
After the color left
All my friends are drunk
Haven't been wasted in months
Which is why we never speak, too
Falling out of touch
It lies in quiet in the night time
Sixteen and burning candles low
Twenty-three and hot water
Dead flowers on your windowsill
I think I understand it now
That you're not supposed to
I'll never learn to be calm
The moon is a killer
Washes bodies to the surface
How does anybody do this?
All my friends are drunk (How does anybody do this?)
Haven't been wasted in months (There is not a pressure)
Washes bodies to the surface (How does anybody do this?)
Everything feels how it should (Falling out of touch)
I can feel tired, it does not burden me (How does anybody do this?)
Sometimes it's like I don't exist (There is not a pressure)
Blissful but not numb (How does anybody do this?)
Everything feels how it should
Peaceful skin on skin
