Ash to ash and dust to dust. We’re all gonna die, so we have to trust, in something. But it’s probably nothing. There’s gotta be something.
I have scars on my hands from touching certain people… Certain heads,...– j.d. salinger
And I peel the wet skin out from under my nails and I lean my head back. I place my eyes in my elbow and it’s smooth on my lids. I relive the stale water on the end of my hair, gliding over the nape of my neck. I keep hearing “stay above the water.” And I embrace the multitudes of beers in my lungs, warming my legs. I listen to the echo of an empty room and listen to the movement...
New Broken Social Scene →
seylhingaiela: Fionn Regan - The Underwood...