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playing Sugar, We’re Goin Down
Start, the drums,
then let the guitars sing.
Take me back to seventh grade,
when my identity was a thing
that was blooming like a chrysanthemum.
(I am forever losing and finding my identity.)
Can you see my pink Converse in the chords?
Can you hear my trumpet squeal during band practice?
Do you remember I was so sure of what life was about?
Wasn’t my attitude a lemon in your mouth?
(Am I more than you bargained for yet?)
Funny how back then I thought I would know more by now.
I was so young, so orange. (Like a fire. Like a leaf on an autumn tree.)
I turn the music up and get lost in the melody.
The singer spins a tale of a narcissist’s rage.
I only think of seventh grade.
© katiewrites
then let the guitars sing.
Take me back to seventh grade,
when my identity was a thing
that was blooming like a chrysanthemum.
(I am forever losing and finding my identity.)
Can you see my pink Converse in the chords?
Can you hear my trumpet squeal during band practice?
Do you remember I was so sure of what life was about?
Wasn’t my attitude a lemon in your mouth?
(Am I more than you bargained for yet?)
Funny how back then I thought I would know more by now.
I was so young, so orange. (Like a fire. Like a leaf on an autumn tree.)
I turn the music up and get lost in the melody.
The singer spins a tale of a narcissist’s rage.
I only think of seventh grade.
© katiewrites
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