Someday I'll write a song that doesn't make me sad, someday I'll write a ballad all to you. I'll box it up and call it my stupid years. I'll box it up and call it my stupid years.
I went for a drive today, all for you, I cried and cried again until you weren't even, you weren't even you. And 3,000 miles later, 541 you said, I was a stranger to my own bed and the summer I was 20 I lost my own Starr, lost the galaxy and created some scars, but,
Someday I'll write a song that doesn't make me sad, someday I'll write ballad all to you, I'll box it up and call it my stupid years. I'll box it up.
And for the life of me, I can't remember why I waited all winter to see that I was worthwhile. I built a promise on a 5ft 3 structure knowing eventually it'd be a crutch for me. I waited on phone call to fix time, but instead finally grew up and cut the line.
And someday I'll write a song that doesn't make me sad, someday I'll write a ballad all to you, I'll box it up and call it my stupid year. I'll box it up and sell you all my better years.
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