Eighteen

On day one I was looking trough my pockets for the keys

On day two, there I found them hanging quietly from the door

You said I should get used to situations like these

But I know it’s a sign that I’m not ready for this song

This naked wall is a trap, is a trap

It’s wearing me out like a name on a tag

On day three you were standing in the doorway with a smile

On day four, there I lost you, as you were running down the hall

You said I just want to be alone for a while

But you know it’s all because I always move too slow

These years have gone, in the sun, in the shade

I’m eighteen today — what a mess I have made