There is so much to be said about growing up in small places
In wooden houses with louvered windows
And too many cars in the driveway
About playing barefoot outside
Until the sun sets
And the deer start barking
About scratching mosquito bites until they bleed
And covering each one
With powdery pink calamine lotion
About sitting in the bath for so long
That the hot water turns lukewarm
And each finger and toe is wrinkled like a raisin
And then watching the soap suds
Swirl down the drain like a whirlpool
When the plug is pulled
About stepping on bees
And feeling more sorry for them
Than for red swollen feet
About bringing a new stick home
From every walk through the forest
And keeping them stacked in the corner by the front door
About collecting rocks and seashells and pieces of bleached coral
And lining them up along the windowsill
And trying to catch the flies that buzz in the corners of the glass
About the stray cats
That fight outside at night
And the howling wind in the treetops
About searching for constellations
And thinking that the sound of crickets
Is actually the sound of the stars singing
About reading under the covers
And falling asleep
In a bed passed down for three generations
And dreaming of heroic adventures
In fantasy lands where magic is real
And if the bad guys start winning
Dawn is just over the horizon
Stretching her warm fingers around the earth
To snatch away each nightmare
And scatter its ashes far out at sea
Where only the whales could every find them
There is so much to be said about growing up
There is so much to be said
lost in october. - small places Lyrics
lost in october. - small places Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
There is so much to be said about growing up in small places
In wooden houses with louvered windows
And too many cars in the driveway
About playing barefoot outside
Until the sun sets
And the deer start barking
About scratching mosquito bites until they bleed
And covering each one
With powdery pink calamine lotion
About sitting in the bath for so long
That the hot water turns lukewarm
And each finger and toe is wrinkled like a raisin
And then watching the soap suds
Swirl down the drain like a whirlpool
When the plug is pulled
About stepping on bees
And feeling more sorry for them
Than for red swollen feet
About bringing a new stick home
From every walk through the forest
And keeping them stacked in the corner by the front door
About collecting rocks and seashells and pieces of bleached coral
And lining them up along the windowsill
And trying to catch the flies that buzz in the corners of the glass
About the stray cats
That fight outside at night
And the howling wind in the treetops
About searching for constellations
And thinking that the sound of crickets
Is actually the sound of the stars singing
About reading under the covers
And falling asleep
In a bed passed down for three generations
And dreaming of heroic adventures
In fantasy lands where magic is real
And if the bad guys start winning
Dawn is just over the horizon
Stretching her warm fingers around the earth
To snatch away each nightmare
And scatter its ashes far out at sea
Where only the whales could every find them
There is so much to be said about growing up
There is so much to be said
In wooden houses with louvered windows
And too many cars in the driveway
About playing barefoot outside
Until the sun sets
And the deer start barking
About scratching mosquito bites until they bleed
And covering each one
With powdery pink calamine lotion
About sitting in the bath for so long
That the hot water turns lukewarm
And each finger and toe is wrinkled like a raisin
And then watching the soap suds
Swirl down the drain like a whirlpool
When the plug is pulled
About stepping on bees
And feeling more sorry for them
Than for red swollen feet
About bringing a new stick home
From every walk through the forest
And keeping them stacked in the corner by the front door
About collecting rocks and seashells and pieces of bleached coral
And lining them up along the windowsill
And trying to catch the flies that buzz in the corners of the glass
About the stray cats
That fight outside at night
And the howling wind in the treetops
About searching for constellations
And thinking that the sound of crickets
Is actually the sound of the stars singing
About reading under the covers
And falling asleep
In a bed passed down for three generations
And dreaming of heroic adventures
In fantasy lands where magic is real
And if the bad guys start winning
Dawn is just over the horizon
Stretching her warm fingers around the earth
To snatch away each nightmare
And scatter its ashes far out at sea
Where only the whales could every find them
There is so much to be said about growing up
There is so much to be said
Writer: River Hosten
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid