We’ll get that house someday—
the one down a dirt road,
lights flashing through the cracked blinds,
bass shaking the walls like thunder in a summer storm.
Three girls, five boys,
eight hearts wired on caffeine and chaos,
living off energy drinks, cheap *****,
and too much midnight freedom.
There’ll be vapes everywhere—
lost in couch cushions,
stuck in hoodies,
Someone yelling, “Who took mine again?”
while another blows a cloud in their face,
laughing so hard they can’t breathe.
We’ll throw parties that echo through the trees,
music bouncing off the fields,
neighbors threatening to call the cops—
but we’ll just turn it up louder,
bare feet on the porch,
smoke curling under the moonlight.
Inside, the kitchen will smell like vanilla pods and rebellion,
walls painted with spilled drinks and bad decisions,
our names carved into the wood like a promise
to never grow boring.
We’ll steal each other’s vapes,
steal each other’s fries,
steal every second before the world catches up.
Out here, no curfews, no calm—
just us,
wild in the dark,
living like legends in a house that’ll never sleep.