We were sweet, weren't we?
And that's why my eyes sting
I ran away 'cause our fires didn't burn the same
You know I hate biting my tongue
Kissed your cheek until you stayed
Feeling that was our last Friday
You tasted like lemonade, sweeter than the cake we made
I knew nothing would ever taste the same
But I'll still read your poetry
When I'm old and crow's feet remain
From when our cheeks would hurt the same
And I'll keep relics of the mess we made
Relics of the mess we made
Thankful for every page
My heart melted with each note you made
Who's your next muse? Who is mine?
And whose will I be? Will we find
Ourselves in between the lines?
But I'll still read your poetry
When I'm old and crow's feet remain
From when our cheeks would hurt the same
And I'll keep relics of the mess we made
Relics of the mess we made
One cold night, one stone bench
Two of us, two young kids
Three strong words I never said aloud
One cold night, one stone bench
Two of us, two young kids
Three strong words I never said aloud
But I'll still read your poetry
When I'm old and crow's feet remain
From when our cheeks would hurt the same
And I'll keep relics of the mess we made
Relics of the mess we made
One cold night, one last kiss
Though it hurts, we're just kids
I'm sorry it all ended up like this
But who's your next muse? Who is mine?
And whose will I be? Will we find
Ourselves in between the lines?