I thought you were a basic indie girl with a useless art degree, overalls and mac demarco style jeans
And had a thing for cinnamon flavored ice cream
A pack of cigarettes clutched in your hand, saying 'this is the last one
I swear' making out in the back of your car, listening to an old punk rock song
Thinking you make everything not wrong
Thinking you make everything not wrong
You said my mom's gonna kill you, and I hope she does but only after I leave
You said are you gonna miss me, I said I think so, almost certainly
No this song isn't about you
And yes, okay, I will write one for you
I didn't realize, we weren't on speaking conditions
I didn't realize, you wanted me to wear khakis when I met your parents
I didn't think you would change
Now you're the fire to my rain
And all that liquor in your cup
You lost your innocence, all I did was grow up
Your hair smells like daffodils but I don't think I've ever smelled a daffodil, oh well
Remember when you dumped me, when I was in another country. Not to mention state of mind
Everything is your fault, but everything revolves around you
And Everything that I've lost doesn't compare to losing you