Life turns around and you swear this is the last time.

So I call on a friend though we haven’t spoken since that night.

And Time turns you out, pretty soon you rot from the outside.

And you’ll never go back to fix the things you did that night.

But if you call me - I’d know things are ok sometime.

And If you want it - I know you’ll go and get it you are too bright.

Because your my boy.

The things that you say, the games that you play in the end I bet they won’t mean shit.

 So why do I care so much? I used to not care so much, and when you care you feel like shit.

The years wound on down, your backs to the ground and you’re facing the sky - did it all feel like nothing? Or did the amount of time feel just right?