I miss the winter even though it was cold
There's something pretty 'bout the snow
I know I shouldn't go back to where I was before
But something's so enticing 'bout becoming who you were
I never followed the streetlights home
Tiny pencil
Tiny wrists
Tiny hands and tiny grips
Remember when we were this
You ever wanna go re-exist
Well
Not for me, it's not my style
I wasn't born to be a child
I've made many mistakes, but
Karma gives and takes
I was tryna get a break from
All the things I was supposed to make
Preoccupied with lips I couldn't taste
Thinking 'bout all of the time I've wasted
Thinking
I don't think I'm anything they've ever known
I don't know how far I can go alone
I don't think they see me for who I am
I hope they understand
Some day