The grass is screaming long
Midnight cars roll past
I've been chasing your room
While the summer lasts
So count it on your fingers
If we got it wrong
It's cause the days have no numbers
If we leave tonight
And we leave it all behind
It's my birthday. I am 17. And for reasons unknown, I am sad. And while copius amounts of cards and presents lay on my desk before me, I feel entirely alone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment