Strawberry Shortcake

Sitting on the highway, my way.

Chilling for the thrill of it.

Praying that i'll fly away.

Knowing i'd make the most of it.

I say you've gotta be afraid,

cause you know i'm about to kill this shit.

If pain really does mean pay,

i can never go broke, not even a little bit.

I'm outside, at 808, with no heart to break.

Standing at the finish line, but it doesn't mean anything

because we didn't start the same.

Yet all of a sudden, we're supposed to squash the beef

like a vegan pancake,

and keep it moving for life's short sake.

Our lives collide so often,

so infrequent yet so calculated,

every time i hear your name,

i look up knowing that it was orchestrated.

And i can't pinpoint the moment

but deep down, i know i prayed it.

So everyday i don't see you or hear from you

all i have to do is replay it...

.....word for word,

refreshing my mind to keep my sanity clean,

curving my accent around the foreign words,

stopping, habitually as you do, to sigh in between.

Remember the days when you ate treats like strawberry shortcake?

Those were the good days, toys were the only things we played with.

Back in the days when we hid behind dolls if we needed to be fake.

Yet along the way we all became master puppeteers,

outer body experiences in tandem,

puberty i think they call it.

Anyways, friends became your peers,

and your dreams became your fears,

and everything you'd ever known about yourself and your body

had been reduced to 9 or 10 short years.

Remember?