كلمات Poor Posture

The sound of the shaking trees Brushed by that August breeze All that's left is memories Could almost bring you to your knees Trying to save my sanity Rolling by, skating in my black tee Its like I slept since twenty ten Now it's white walls, try to pay the rent I got these memories inside my brain 'Cause when I go home it's not the fucking same 'Cause everybody loves growing up But you won't say the same when you see that time's up The sound of the shaking trees Brushed by that August breeze All that's left is memories Could almost bring you to your knees Growing old, save your soul, told you so I am not who I was, let it go Growing old, save your soul, told you so I am not who I was, let it go Growing old, save your soul, told you so I am not who I was, let it go Growing old, save your soul, told you so I am not who I was, let it go