The little things that you found out
The middle child gets left out
Chasing tail lights in the dirt
You've got a secret that fucking hurts
After all you stick around
I count the days that you've been gone
I may be grown but I'm still your son
Sing with me
I still like to play our song
Yeah
I think I'm feeling sick again
So I'll put paper under the pen
And scribble down with in my head
Like leaving trails in wet cement
I'll get it out so I won't forget
