Van, Forever

I've got a journal. I put down everything we did

You've given me plenty to write

Drunk in Wisconsin, shooting rockets off in the woods

The ways we'd make it through the night

We climbed a silo back home, it felt so infinite

Kicked out, your stepmom lent a ride

And on the ride home, I thought of everyone we knew

Who gave up well before their time

When I'm home, I get sick of the trite, uninspired, recycled bullshit

And boring conversations about "the back when"

It makes no sense to me to be dead-eyed at 23

Making cash, waiting for life to happen

Heaven's a basement show in Pennsylvania

Hell's back home giving up with you

I'd rather be stuck in a van forever

Than, never see anything through