The Death of Me

Listening to the suburbs every night on repeat,

Wishing I was anywhere but where I was right then

Mom said you’re a dreamer go and get ‘em honey,

Wish I’d bottled up that feeling,

So I could drink it down again.

I get my guilty pleasure out of reminiscing,

But I’m still searching for what I could never find in a man.

Everybody’s got advice,

They want me to listen,

They all have good intentions

But it feels like they just don’t understand.

Oh my my my,

My past won’t die

I’m holding on for life to the memories

But nostalgia, you’re gonna be the death of me

Always looking in the rear view & it’s easy to see

That nostalgia, you’re gonna be the death of me.