Waves crashing below us and you're proud. Of what? Symphony of alcohol rings in each ear like a cadavalier that's roaring, speeding, and we can't catch up with it.
And we stare out our windows. Wondering when the snow will hit the ground, you shout our names and nobody makes a sound. Bravado is a club and I can't join, you said it yourself.
I'm only 15 but I feel as if on fire. Cutting ties with liars that call me one.