Lock and Keystone Songtext

but it's a great excuse,
so i can't complain.

I remain.
I remain.

I meet this guy who says he's lived here his whole life
and now he's pushing seventy.
He says he knows the name of everyone in this town who has done the same and believe me, there are plenty.
So I said, "maybe sometime you could introduce me
to someone who's lived here longer than you;
whoever owns that house on the corner
with the stained-glass windows and the pointed roof."

He says, "I've got to warn you,
He's a bit of a recluse.
Maybe try the bars,
buddy, that's what we do."

I remain. I remain.

Right now, I've got my wallet full
of things that I don't need:
my money and my ID
and Laura's old apartment key.

I watch the grass grow greener on the other side
and it makes my eyes water when it gets cut.
I leave my keys in the ignition, lock the door, and slam it shut.
Maybe this will keep me away from college.
Last time I went, I guess I never left home.
I'd just wait for the weekend so I could still pretend I hadn't grown;

hadn't grown alone,
hadn't grown so small,
hadn't grown apart.
I didn't grow at all.

I remain.
I remain.

I remain
in the same state.