Hold on- this is only the void from the things that we had.
Hold on- this is only the shit that you say when you're mad.
Hold on- this is oly the feeling I get from the ocean.
Hold on- these are only regrets from our plans put in motion.

Paper thin against a pen,
like some skin against some scars,
think back and remeber when
we fought for Back Bay bars,
then lit out in seperate cars.
I feel like we could have it all
if we could keep it together,
and I feel that the left-handed way up to God is much better.