I was a little squirt
The nerd, on mission street, long hair
Seemed ungroomed, cleaned pants, guitar
Posters in my room.
The dead, the doors, the who, the stones.
Concert tickets to make me remember
What it was like high and gone.
So many years, to remember what I've gone through
Now nothing's old no more.
Societies cheapened down to the new.

I don't draw anymore
I have pencils on the floor and doodles on my door
Doodles of the past when I would push
Shoving the door shut as barricades turned to mush
I don't draw anymore
I used to sing for you on my bedroom floor
"Don't let them ruin my core"
Although you didn't respond
I'd still draw for you and sit by the pond
I don't draw anymore
Can passion derive from pain?
Even when you're considered "crazy" and I'm "sane"
I still think about when we would draw together
You weren't very good, but you assured me forever
I don't draw anymore
We couldn't afford oils but I was okay with pastels
On my birthday you could tell
I would use chalk
While you and I would talk
Scratching against the pavement