Salty sea shore tortured me
I agreed
To breathe
Underwater
Mist above is blinding views
I refused
To accuse
Any brother
See me waving you goodbye
I'm alright
Boiling butter on my fingers
Sand still lingers
In my old sneakers
And all old songs
Damp the loud radio speakers
80's tune
I promised to save the attitude
No prude
You're rude
Faked altitude
We both now it's a show off
You're sad
Trying to look distant but I feel you're mad
My bad
Your head
Is my unmade bed
Thanks, Kenai, I've got insomnia