I used to think,
"I've never been through it,
the deaths and stuff that
make us old enough."
Old enough to love a boy
whose name I still don't know.
We traded voices, blurted accidents.
Brutal Winter froze through Spring's slow crawl.
In the Summer's burn, the impending Fall.
"I've never been through it,
the deaths and stuff that
make us old enough."
Old enough to love a boy
whose name I still don't know.
We traded voices, blurted accidents.
Brutal Winter froze through Spring's slow crawl.
In the Summer's burn, the impending Fall.
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