Oh to be eleven and stricken with vernacular force as they spewed out taboo terms like "move" and "divorce" and I waited for my tears to run their wet course and locked myself in my room with my German imports while the next day I still had to do all my chores and the pain was white hot like a full power torch and I wonder who felt the biggest remorse but I was still a kid and never heard that word before

Oh to be such a pretty teen and lose my virginity and still come home questioning my stated masculinity no matter how they treated me I still just felt this weakening of staying emotionally stable and stating "I won't come for you, oh no not tonight, the feeling isn't mutual, the feeling isn't right" I'm leaving here soon and bringing my stained bed sheets with me, no matter how sick they make me

But every single girl I brought into my bed would always look at all my posters over both our heads but I never want another girl to come in here again ‘cause I need this time alone to really focus on them before I have to execute an act so frighteningly intense, take them all off very slowly, store them, make sure they don’t bend, find a quiet place for ticket stubs that retrospect the conquest of every band I ever loved and months and months and months and months

Of constant rearranging, pieces moved from wall to wall, I could never think of taking down just one let alone all, from the winters to the springs into the summers to the fall, I have built this shrine of music worship do you hear me call? Out from my bedroom so late at night and writing all these songs, some just way too self-indulgent and overbearingly long, my entire room’s a total mess, more so than just my conscientious realization dripping like the spittle from my tongue

I was three and left my favorite place on Earth
But back then I didn’t know what it was worth
I’ve gotten used to calling this old house my home
And though the posters will come down
They will be saved and sent to out of town
Cause this is a place I’ve known

Oh to be eighteen and scared of everything from commitment to the natural act of disappearing, to just simply being surrounded by small creatures with their wings, as a stranger to my life tells me I don’t know how to sing, well please let me inform you about my artistic expression as the pressure in my neck builds to unquenchable tension, yes you’ve heard the spiel a million times about teenage depression, so excuse me for my accidental personal digression

Oh to be such a last minute human on this planet, if the future turned like clockwork I’d not hesitate to plan it in advance and perhaps know bits and pieces of it and a preview of happiness to see if I can stand it and my eyes aways close, please don’t wake me I am sleeping, son it’s time to go, please don’t wake me I am sleeping, everything you’ve known, please don’t wake me I am sleeping, please don’t wake me I am sleeping, please don’t wake me I am sleeping

I was three and left my favorite place on Earth
But back then I didn’t know what it was worth
I’ve gotten used to calling this old house my home
And though the posters will come down
They will be saved and sent to out of town
Cause this is a place I’ve known
And my grandmother’s old stereo
Will never blast my tapes alone
‘Cause this is a place I’ve known
I say goodbye to Willow Road
And the screen door that just won’t close
And deer that look like antelope
And nature trails and studios
Yes one by one they all must go
Though they were a part of my growth
And made this a place I've known