| I was seventeen when I first |
| Gave up on myself |
| Never really cared for much |
| But I’m glad that we talk |
| And I’m sure there’s nothing wrong |
| When the sun beats down like it does out there |
| And these are fucking long |
| Getting longer too as the years fly by |
| We’ve been through one hell of a lot |
| But I still get twisted up inside |
| Myself |
| Whatever that means |
| And you’ve been through the works and back |
| Came out pretty well I’d say |
| You’re stable now |
| Whatever that means |
| And I can’t set foot in Boston |
| No, the streets are way too clean |
| There’s a lack of cracked up pavement |
| For me to fall and break my knees |
| Well I’m sure there’s nothing wrong |
| When the sun beats down like it does out there |
| And these days are fucking long |
| Getting longer too as the years fly by |
| We’ve been through one hell of a lot |
| But I still get twisted up inside |
| Myself |
| Whatever that means |
| And you’ve been through the works and back |
| Came out pretty well I’d say |
| You’re stable now |
| Whatever that means |