When I was younger, I always wanted to be an astronaut and travel farther than eyes could ever see.
Well here I am, just turned nineteen.
And I'm hating everything about the space between.
Where am I here in this game you're playing?
Where am I?
I'm just sitting here waiting, for you to see, just how much you mean to me.
And how we're missing out on living life together.
But of course, like the rest of them, your face is sad and weathered, and I guess it's all my fault.
Moving forth, I don't see anything that I could ever grow up and want to be.
(And want to be...)
I just left it all underneath the trees.
If you look hard enough, you will find me carving names that don't exist and wondering when...
Wondering when...
When you will see, that you were space, and I was a planet, in orbit, flying down.
Trying to find space enough to put my feet on the ground.
Now I'm hung in the trees, now I'm hung in the trees, wont you just leave me be?