You're gonna grow to regret it
You're gonna learn to hate the girls you loved
Try to forget it all happened
You're gonna long for the touch of a long time love
You're gonna tire of the tragic
And curse every night you're alone for the ride
You've been embracing the silence
The solitude's been a ruse and now you're wise
Maybe it's genetics
Unnatural and foreign to my kind
I need a shot of Spanish
Italian or French, or those combined
Just to enjoy the aesthetics
Tramp down the grape then drink the wine
Kith and kin and comfort
Community and care and truth in kind
Maybe it's just habit
Something suited just for a like mind
A kind of distraction
Romanticized and inflated for story time
And it's mine
And I'll always want to have it
Keep it close
Keep it inside
Where I can always find it
Because it's mine