Get me the fuck out of Florida

Get me back to that parking lot

Let me dwell in my run off thoughts

I'd be better off but not anywhere

I need wet feet and harsher air

Divorced mothers and bedrooms where I can lay my head in

The fact that I had even tried to change myself

Erase myself from stories that I wrote (Fights are fictional)

Trace a better state that I know

Was opposite but possibly home

But this place isn't home

Get me back to the train tracks and

Stolen cigarettes shared with friends

Schoolyard fights and the understanding

From parents that were misunderstood

Despite their efforts at doing good

I miss the dead grass and broken wood

That surrounded the whole

House that I would come to find would represent

The first thing that I made and truly loved

It's not enough to change what's in the back of my mind

Despite the things that I've grown to like

And I know it's easier here to get by on my own

But I'd rather be in a hole than home

And this place isn't home

And you can't take the gold out of my bones

When they're brittle and they're old

They'll break and fall like snow

Thick and heavenly

Stick to a Long Island street and stew

(I've swam in the rain)

Decaying and waiting for three months of growth

To force new times to go

(Open up my clothes)

Burning every inch of my skin

Waiting for the summer to end

And I'm not naive to the fact that the choice is my own

Just right now I've found something that will grow

But this place isn't home