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I guess I’ll pass,
I’ve gotten no where and it isn’t so bad.
I’m sitting mixing the shades of grey,
While taking shots at your unmarked shame.

I’m calling quits at seventeen,
and turning on all the lights to see.

I’m the sun, I’m the fire,
I’m an honest man but you call me a liar.
But I’m still washing your paint from the walls,
I’ll kill off the hours with the silence of phone calls.

I’m calling quits at seventeen,
and turning on all the lights to see the other side that’s got the best of me.

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