Remember when we climbed the tree
And all the leaves turned into geese
It's hard to believe
Some people call this lucky

You've lost your awkward innocence
Your jacket smells like cigarettes
The grass is turning brown
Like at the end of summer

Like the star in that famous scene
I was crying and everything
I've got to admit when i've been beaten by the very best
I once said that these skinny arms could handle this
But i was wrong
I'll stop by this week
To pick up all my records