I find it strange that most take trust for granted, while some can barely grant it to best friends or the ones we wished we could love.
What would it take to make you believe my age? A few more scars, deep set eyes, or hair on my face?
I believe in souls but not salvation. Habits form from repetition.
Whiskey keeps you warm, but not on Friday night mid-December by some shore.
Track Name: Days
We don't have to count the days until the sun will set.
There is no final resting place, our fate is just to drift.
What is there to measure without telling when the sun will ever set?
This ship won't ever land.
A thought I know is crass for each piece of rock we pass
drifting through vacant space I can't forget your face
another final gasp for each time our fingers clasp
more distance from that place your memory still remains.
Track Name: Rhody
Movin' on, that old cliche.
Hold the line, I'll see you on holidays.
Then you go and change, but we still make the same mistakes.
The moment when you realize that your new habits have materialized from your past pet peeves, and "no, I'll never be's"