thesafeword
07/20/09, 03:13 PM
I reminisce of a room that I don't seem to remember or know at all
So I ask myself 'where am I?', but I say 'am I bothering you?'
Your face seems slightly familiar, this just feels a little different
And dreaming's not so hard when there aren't consequences
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Wearing my favorite silk green shorts and grass-stained yellow shirt
Instead of this fucking suit and coat
I struggle to put a name on the smell that I know so well
And it leaves me craving a crisp autumn afternoon, oh what I would do
But now to you, I've gotten used to it
Hate me, for I can't do it myself, forgetting all of the things I loved
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Wearing the warmest clothes, anticipating the snow
Instead of fucking dealing with my problems
These memories are mine, I try not to think about them in order to preserve what little is left
Yes, these memories are mine, incripted into songs that I had never heard at the time
It just works out that way, when I'm sitting all alone in a room I hardly know, it's just too dark to tell
I see the shadow of your face, through the headphones playing a song, that in a few years I'll probably hate
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Worrying about whether or not I missed that kickball episode of Rocket Power
Instead of fucking worrying about the future
So I ask myself 'where am I?', but I say 'am I bothering you?'
Your face seems slightly familiar, this just feels a little different
And dreaming's not so hard when there aren't consequences
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Wearing my favorite silk green shorts and grass-stained yellow shirt
Instead of this fucking suit and coat
I struggle to put a name on the smell that I know so well
And it leaves me craving a crisp autumn afternoon, oh what I would do
But now to you, I've gotten used to it
Hate me, for I can't do it myself, forgetting all of the things I loved
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Wearing the warmest clothes, anticipating the snow
Instead of fucking dealing with my problems
These memories are mine, I try not to think about them in order to preserve what little is left
Yes, these memories are mine, incripted into songs that I had never heard at the time
It just works out that way, when I'm sitting all alone in a room I hardly know, it's just too dark to tell
I see the shadow of your face, through the headphones playing a song, that in a few years I'll probably hate
Whether I'm awake or not, is just a detail that I'll shed
Because I am six years old and alone with my Backyard football
Worrying about whether or not I missed that kickball episode of Rocket Power
Instead of fucking worrying about the future