Interstate

The air is close, about to break.
Snow is waiting to cascade.
Change in the season brings
merely a host of things
you wanna say but you are unable.
Strange we children grow.
Days will come and nights will go.
But we get loud when the eastside meets the west coast crowd.

Six years gone.
I see your shape
and toss the key from the fire escape.
My mind is still a mill of doubt.
They're making pills to fake it out.
You should be stable. You are unable.
Strange we children grow.
Days will come and nights will go.
But we get loud when the eastside meets the west coast crowd.

Funny the battles that we brave.
Feels like we're still in second grade.
No longer people that we save
as much as the money that we've made.
Well, travel on. Interstate.
At least we're got our direction straight.
Strange we children grow.
Days will come and nights will go.
But we get loud when the eastside meets the west coast crowd.