i'm not seventeen (but i feel like a shitbag)
hey cheekbones and eyes, i've been gone three weeks, now i'm a mess.
my stomach's on strike, and its been three weeks since my last breath.
well i don't know why i'm here, cause i'm not in need of attention and i'm not seventeen, and I don't believe in that which i can't see.
well i swear, if i make it home with my mind and some skin on my bones, i'll be the first one to throw away these car keys and this cell phone, so i can't leave or talk to anyone, and this stupid wristwatch, so i'm unaware of the time that i've lost, trying to be that which i'm not.
my stomach's on strike, and its been three weeks since my last breath.
well i don't know why i'm here, cause i'm not in need of attention and i'm not seventeen, and I don't believe in that which i can't see.
well i swear, if i make it home with my mind and some skin on my bones, i'll be the first one to throw away these car keys and this cell phone, so i can't leave or talk to anyone, and this stupid wristwatch, so i'm unaware of the time that i've lost, trying to be that which i'm not.