We'll rent a yellow house with an uncanny resemblance of a boxcar
Paint the kitchen and fill it with failed attempts at mama's cooking in a jar
We'll cover the floor with sheets and write songs on your guitar
You don't mind my handmade potpourri, and I'll inhale your rolled cigars
I'll pretend to be Shakespeare and write some lyrics about you and I and the stars
Your music on surround sound will let neighbors know this bungalow is ours
Twister blankets and earthquake morning bedrooms
Watching cartoons while the coffee brews
I don't think adult life designs all my tattoos
But happy lives means we don't have to make do
Midnight thinking we bit off more than we can chew
But we'll keep tying the laces until they pull through
These hormones will wear off
But when that happens, we'll still talk
We make not make a mess of the sheets
But we can always help each other walk
Redraw the sidewalks with neon chalk
But leave it to time to wear away our flaws
