GOLDEN HOUR
Nate Boots

On our backs, in the grass, in the backyard
Starin’ up at the sky
It’s just another Thursday night
In the middle of our lives
Your dress hem’s gone ragged
My boots have worn holes
The chorus is waning
Verse’s gone cold

Twelve miles from reverie
Ten years too late
Golden hour’s wasted
What’s left?
What’s left to say?

The house has gone silent
Wood beams turned to stone
What ever happened
To our warm little home?
Can hardly remember
The good times no more
Just tracking these ashes
All over the floor

Twelve miles from reverie…
Now here we are again
Just stealing time
What’s the use no more?
Ain’t worth a dime

Twelve miles from reverie…