I’m Not Seventeen

Hey cheekbones and eyes
I've been gone three weeks, now I'm a mess
My stomach's on strike
And it's been three weeks since my last breath

Well, I don't know why I'm here
'Cause I'm not in need of attention
And I'm not seventeen
And I don't believe in that which I can't see

Well, I swear if I make it home
With my mind and some skin on my bones
I'll be the first one to throw up these car keys and this cell phone
So I can't leave or talk to anyone
And this stupid wristwatch so I'm unaware of the time that I've lost
I'm trying to be that which I'm not