Texty: Agent (The). Other. I'm Fucking Sick Of People.

I was wondering
If you thought about those days as much as I?
We'd attempt to forget about life, and get on our bikes and ride.
And we'd think about never coming back.

And if I had to leave, then bury me
Where the counties meet.

And know that: This place was all I had.
People left but the waves came back