Bikes

I'm never gonna see this place again With these colonial red houses in my eyes The catacombs we roamed to kill the day While mom tried hard to feel alive The lower-middle class, it finds a way And so we packed the car with all that couldn't stay To circumnavigate the lower-48 But none of it was ours to take, you know It's the way I make myself miserable Over and over Over and over I'm never gonna see his face again The crooked bottle rocket scar from that July We set fireworks at John Birch billboards Outside county lines I'm not fine It's the way I make myself miserable Over and over Over and over It's the way I make myself miserable Over and over Over and over My god, I've changed I'm losing myself to thinking this way Get a grip, kid C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon It's the way I make myself miserable Over and over Over and over It's the way I make myself miserable Over and over Over and over When you left through the window To get to my house Slipped on the rooftop The fall knocked you out Staying up late, you're a thorn in my side I couldn't help but thinking, I'd sworn you had died Youth's indiscretions of time spent alone It's all we had but our skin and our bones Look at the frame, and how I'm getting old And it's gone, gone I know I know I know that it's...