Walking thru the alleys of my tiny midwest town
listening to songs about dogs
who smoke themselves to death
i write the name of a town i dont live in on a circuit box
get out fast
i want what i dont know how to have
Big, steady circle of friends
Everyone knows everyone
We ride our bikes to 7-11
We play in a band and sneak out late to steal beer
Parallel friendships
I cant ride a bike
The 7-11’s shut
The only gas stations are in the “bad parts of town” where the frat boys shoot each other
I cant read music
I have a lisp + braces
I cant keep time
A guitar is too big
Nobody wants a ukulele
My stairs creak with the ache in my heart
My dad’s too alert
My friends dont live close
Same with the stores
locked in my wants
but i'm trying to find the key