It was the first snow of the season
|
i can almost see you breathin
|
in the middle of that empty street
|
|
Sometimes i still see myself
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in that lonesome bedroom
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playin my guitar
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and singing songs of hope
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for a better future
|
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life is
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only
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as good as the memories we make
|
and i'm taking back what belongs to me
|
polaroids of classrooms unattended
|
these relics of remembrance
|
are just like shipwrecks
|
only theyre gone faster
|
than the smell after it rains
|
|
last night while everyone was sleepin
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i drove through my old neighborhood
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and resurrected memories from ashes
|
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we said that we would never fit in
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we were really just like them
|
does rebellion ever make a difference
|
|
life is
|
only
|
as good as the memories we make
|
and im taking back what belongs to me
|
polaroids of classrooms unattended
|
these relics of remembrance
|
are just like shipwrecks
|
only theyre gone faster
|
than the smell after it rains
|
|
So long astoria
|
i found a map to buried treasure
|
and even if we come home empty handed
|
well still have our stories
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of battle scars, pirate ships and wounded hearts,
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broken bones, and all the best of friendships
|
|
and when this hourglass
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has filtered out
|
its final grain of sand
|
i raise my glass to the memories we had
|
this is my wish
|
this is my wish
|
im takin back
|
im takin them all back
|
|
-----------------
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So Long, Astoria
|
| The Ataris |
