I cut my fingers on a broken picture frame 
The welling up waxes and wanes. 
It's not fair and it hasn't been 
All my friends are living saints. 
Been killing me for weeks 
A garden weed that cracks concrete. 
It hasn't been fair for long 
Growing up isn't moving on. 
Moving on. 
Nooo. Moving on. 
Do you miss our broken reason, the nights spent treating 
Troubles and normalcy to bottles and comedies? 
You forgot your necklace upstairs on purpose 
It was you golden ticket scam and it always made us laugh 
Do you see me as your acquaintance, your death by time, age and long distance? 
Broken picture frames 
The welling up waxes and wanes. 
It's not fair and it hasn't been 
All my friends are living saints. 
Been killing me for weeks 
A garden weed that cracks concrete. 
It hasn't been fair for long 
Growing up isn't moving on 
All my friends are living saints, living saints, living saints. 
Broken still but never breaking ties (X3) 
Moving on. 
I never pictured this, disperse in fall and don't reminisce 
See it's just not fair, not everyone moved on.