I finally got round to picking up
a book I told my father
I would read
when I was old enough
Counting every eyelet on the boots that I wore
Praying maybe somehow
I would drag my feet up North
And every smell of being twelve
like maple wood and chestnut shells
onion grass and attic shelves
that's how I remember you
and oh, I remember well.
I'm haunted by the people
who keep their eyes
on the ground we walk on
cause it takes us when we die
I meant to tell you
that every time I lie
it's only cause I hate to be the one
that makes you cry.
And every pair of underwear
is draped across the metal chair
hung to dry
and I'm aware
that's how I'll remember this
but I don't think I care.
We swam across the ocean
they told us we'd be fine
I'm glad we came
but I miss you all the time
I know your heart is hurting
and I would give you mine
but I don't think you want it
cause it breaks all of the time.
Ancient homes and cobbled stones
we found them here where no one knows
it isn't good to drink alone
that's how I'll remember this
which only goes to show.
I'm counting every eyelet on the boots that I wore
praying maybe somehow
I can drag my feet up North.