Here in this coffeeshop,
one hand on the classifieds.
Ain't I just the picture of a grown-up barely scraping by?
Back in my Oldsmobile.
Furrow my brow, because
this is an out-of-body moment, if there ever was.
Who's calloused hands are at my wheel?
This scene doesn't seem so real.

These stars aren't the same.
Who moved them out of place?
Who turned the down and made their lights so dim?
These roads are all wrong.
Who paved them all in stone,
put these car keys in my hand and said "grow up, kid"?

Paychecks and back receipts.
Which bills can I pay this month?
Thank goodness for singing on the street or I might just give up.
Sit on the front stoop while
the cinema folks file in.
Pay a few dollars to escape their grind for just a bit.
How I would join them if I could.
A distraction would feel so good.

These stars aren't the same.
Who moved them out of place?
Who turned the down and made their lights so dim?
This home is all wrong.
Who ran off with my lawn,
put this lease down on my lap and said "grow up, kid"?

Walking circles past the closed up shops.
Trying everything to turn my head off.
Nothing felt this big when I was smaller.
They must've took away some joy when they made me taller.

These stars aren't the same.
This bedroom ain't the same.
This mirror ain't the same.
This reflection ain't the same.

These woes are all wrong.
Who said I can't stay young,
put this aching in my chest and said "grow up, kid"?
...put this timeline in my head and said "grow up, kid"?
...put these car keys in my hand and said "grow up, kid"?