My sisters always say that my eyes look dead.
In truth, I've killed myself a million times in my head.
But with the taste of good food and the smell of the sea,
Our little adventures miraculously revived me.
And I know it's just a small town, a tiny island near the Pacific,
With just a ballpoint pen I could map out the specifics,
The names of beaches, and restaurants, and tunes that we sing,
Getting lost with you has become my new favorite thing.
So let's go out more, let's get farther out of sight,
Let's get high on all the stupid wrongs that feel so right,
And yes I died at seventeen, rose back up at twenty-one,
I'm older than I've ever been but I've never felt so young.
