Little Glasses of Spirit
After all this time, chilling out, hanging loose,
with little glasses of spirit in hands of comrades.
All seems like you don’t matter to me no more.
Is that true, that you don't matter? Maybe even I don’t know.
Perhaps I don’t want to. I guess we're better off this way.
On the other hand, it could be the mistake of my life.
To just keep singing, chilling, hanging
with little glasses of spirit in hands of comrades.
To have me go into service without a trace.
Leaving only the shadows of the times past us by.
with little glasses of spirit in hands of comrades.
All seems like you don’t matter to me no more.
Is that true, that you don't matter? Maybe even I don’t know.
Perhaps I don’t want to. I guess we're better off this way.
On the other hand, it could be the mistake of my life.
To just keep singing, chilling, hanging
with little glasses of spirit in hands of comrades.
To have me go into service without a trace.
Leaving only the shadows of the times past us by.
resolute at 12:14 AM
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