Counterfeit Guitars

Driving by your house I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia And as I pull out of your street I remember how you lost her And in your downstairs bedroom We wrote our revolution Armed with counterfeit guitars And disputable amounts of talent And our ideals were all borrowed We just didn't know it yet So perhaps just, this once They were authentic And the hardest part Is I just can't call you up to reminisce Coz I fucked up And my ego was too big To admit it And I know it's no excuse But I was young And I was frightened I'd seen the road down which You were heading And I couldn't face it again Cruising through those backstreets I passed by that old school yard Where we both grew into ourselves We realised, that life Wasn't for the likes of us (Following, blindly following) And the hardest part Is I just can't call you up to reminisce Coz I fucked up And my ego was too big To admit it And I know it's no excuse But I was young And I was frightened I'd seen the road down which You were heading And I couldn't face it again Couldn't face it again Couldn't face it again Couldn't face it again So tell me Can you feel it? The aching in your bones? The one that reverberates And lodges in your skull? The near constant headache That intensifies each time We think of the good undone Coz we couldn't nurse our pride? So tell me Can you feel it? The aching in your bones? The one that reverberates And lodges in your skull? The near constant headache That intensifies each time We think of the good undone Coz we couldn't nurse our pride? And the hardest part Is I just can't call you up to reminisce Coz I fucked up And my ego was too big To admit it And I know it's no excuse But I was young And I was frightened I'd seen the road down which You were heading And I couldn't face it again And the hardest part Is I just can't call you up to reminisce Coz I fucked up And my ego was too big To admit it And I know it's no excuse But I was young And I was frightened I'd seen the road down which You were heading