All My Friends (Are Drunk) - Brooke Bentham

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 just in your head?

Quiet, but nothing grew

I miss home, but I also learnt

How to create homes in places that I go to

Stir of the tine

After the Cumberland

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 in 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