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Young Livers The New Drop Era

The faces we have worn adrift the seas of acquaintance. The lies we can't control, smiling as we sink to the bottom. Tongue tied, we retrace the lines

Goodbye you bastard. Good luck motherfucker. It was out of the water and I wished I had drowned. And it's the greatest mistake. Wounds neatly placed.

Wince at thoughts of these half cocked expressions, as these are the sums of our years of warily waking. Tried and true is the waste in investments.

I wish these were the first words that I heard, "Welcome in dear stranger," but the red ran fast of their hands. Slight of hand receive/emit the coarse