Lyrics

Do 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 colour 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 love Twenty-three and hot water Dead flowers on your window sill 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
Writer(s): William Edward Ryder Jones, Brooke Bentham Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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