So long, astoria

It was the first snow of the season,
I can almost see you breathing in the middle of that empty street.
Sometimes I still see myself in that lonesome bedroom
playing my guitar and singing songs of hope for a better future.

Life is only as good as the memories we make
and I'm taking back what belongs to me.
Polariods of classrooms unattended.
These relics of remembrance are just like shipwrecks,
only they're gone faster than the smell after it rains.

Last night while everyone was sleeping I drove through
my old neighborhood and resurrected memories from ashes.

We said that we would never fit in
when we were really just like them.
Does rebellion ever make a difference?

So long, Astoria, I found a map to buried treasure.
And even if we come home empty handed we'll still have our stories
of battlescars, pirate ships and wounded hearts,
broken bones and all the best of friendships...

And when this hourglass has filtered out its final grain of sand.
I'll raise my glass to the memories we had.
This is my wish and I'm taking it back, I'm taking 'em all back.