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lyrics

There's an end to days like these.
These cliffs lift us clear of drowning seas;
The Keeper gave us breath to hit the brakes.
Up so high you can almost see St Peter looking tired,
But the queue goes on forever,
And who the hell declared he had to shut the gates?

These seasons will turn again
And broken promises cast themselves afresh,
But the lighthouse is refusing to cooperate.
And this harbour holds no safety here for them.
Is any of this ever good enough?
And why the hell d'you make these drills we have to fail?

Breathe, just breathe. We're not ready for more than this.
Breathe, just breathe. It's taking all we've got just to exist.

Someone took the writing from the walls,
Wrapped it up tight and small,
And sent it out to make the palace buildings shake.
Take a seed. Let it breathe. Let it feed
On hope and fear and all we had for free.
Who the hell said we had to play this game?
And who the hell said these rules weren't there to break?

Breathe, just breathe. Don't let this promise slip away.
Breathe, just breathe. It never has to be this way again.

credits

from A Most Imperfect Machine, released July 2, 2021

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Drew Stephenson York, UK

Drew Stephenson is a singer-songwriter based in York, UK, writing conventional songs about unconventional subjects.
Death, monkeys and space hardware may all feature.
He is also part of The Southern Wild.

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