Lifted on my way home
Rode my bike in the rain
Wrote you're name on my arm
Crooked like you like it
Been sleeping more and more these days
I think I missed your call again
An echo that I always hear
An echo that I always hear
Am I wasting my whole life for something ill never know
Writing all the words again but I'm standing in the dark
Late spring growing from the mud I think ill say good