you say you have an old soul
and mine's growing weary waiting for you.
this week has been everything we hoped for plus two
and if we close our eyes
then maybe,
just maybe,
nothing will change
and if we close our eyes
then maybe,
just maybe,
nothing will change
at least for now.
i'm a bit of a hopeless case.
stress case.
basket case.
but you already know that.
you're a bit of a punk and i've seen your kind before.
cool. confident. but not collected.
because on the inside aren't we all a bit confused?
we're all desperate to relate but vulnerability's knock is a little harder than we're used to.
you live in a ghost town 30 minutes from here but face time is only fun for so long until you start pixelating and we're snapped back to the meaning of long distance.
I get jealous of people who see you everyday because my sarcasm isn't as funny typed and snapchat isn't cutting it.
we both know that.
but gas is cheap
and so is talk.
