Sing

The little things that you found out

The middle child gets left out

Chasing tail lights in the dirt

You've got a secret that fucking hurts

After all you stick around

I count the days that you've been gone

I may be grown but I'm still your son

Sing with me

I still like to play our song

Yeah

I think I'm feeling sick again

So I'll put paper under the pen

And scribble down with in my head

Like leaving trails in wet cement

I'll get it out so I won't forget