Little Habits

Can we talk about the migratory patterns Of the grey whales swimming up from Mexico And passing by our town in April? Not unlike our neighbors Need a vacation in Gainesville When the highways turn to veins And all our cars turn into blood cells I swear, there is a point to this That life goes on and I still miss you And I've laid waste to all my little Habits, ticks, and processes It's true Can we talk about how all the time we spent together We made all our biggest mistakes And we made each other better? Yeah, I swear I was the worst version Of myself when I met ya Every single word I let outside Of my mouth was depressing And now, a random person gets the best version of you And I can't breathe It's hard to wrap my head around The fact that you won't know The best version of me I think I need a hobby Maybe try my hand at surfin' But the culture can be unforgiving While the kooks are learnin' Yeah, guitar is pretty hard, but Not as hard as thinkin' of ya I remind myself a thousand times To practice and recover All the while, the whales are swimming Losing loved ones to the sharks I think our neighbor passed away And left his widow to embark On a ten-thousand-mile pilgrimage From Baja to the Arctic Yeah, I know that pain is relative But beauty lies in starting somethin' new