It's hard to think that anyone could like me for who I am.
I keep reaching for my phone.
I feel so close to home lying on the floor while my stomach's tied in knots.
It would be nice if I could be like you.
And I want to, but it's hard to follow through.
I try to be someone you'll love, but I'm not.
So I'll sit in my room alone.
Track Name: Clinton Ave.
There are bowls of food still rotting in your bed.
They patched up the wall we ruined being friends.
It seems like you're doing fine, and I'm all right.
It seemed like we had more time when we were nine.
I'm not sad you're growing up.
Well, maybe kind of.