We hold hands and sit around just being here, glass of whiskey and no time to waste
The pressure is on to ask all the questions before it’s too late
We made the best of the holidays when we thought she was on her way
But 18 months later and what can I say to her now? She seems okay.
But I won't count on a miracle now, I’ll just think benign.
And I don't tout empirical doubt, I’ve got faith in time.
Gathering rosebuds doesn’t slow time, and it’s out of my hands .
Living on pause and enjoying because it could end, but we can’t make plans.
Alexander of Aphrodisias took the salt, and put it aside.
And then of course Jesus of Nazareth, he took the water and turned it to wine.
But I won’t count on a miracle now, I’ll just think benign.
And I don’t tout empirical doubt, I’ve got faith in time.
Thought I could distill what I wanted to know, but I don’t know the questions to ask.
So we’ll make a toast with the water of life that we hide in our flask.
All that we’ve got is right here in our glass, nothing indicative of (more)
Just a quick toast through a lyrical mask and right here, now, love - all of the time.