The license was supposed to be the two of you. He taught her to drive, he was excited for her, the whole point was the day she'd finally pull up to his house. So she gets the keys, the freedom to go anywhere, and the only place anywhere leads is past his street. That's the cruelty of it. The milestone they planned together arrives and he isn't there for it, and now every road just loops her back toward him. She can't square it. She felt this for no one, ever, and somehow he's fine, blonde girl and all, so okay now that she's gone. He even wrote her a forever into a song and didn't mean a word. By the bridge the freedom is just a car she sits in alone, seeing his face in every white one, still loving him out loud past the place they're through.
She finally has the keys to drive anywhere, and the only place she ever ends up is alone outside the house of someone who's perfectly fine without her.
She got the license they always talked about, the one he was so excited for, the one that was supposed to end at his front door. Instead she's driving the suburbs alone and crying, because the day finally came and he isn't in it.
There's a blonde girl now, older, everything she's insecure about. What guts her isn't the girl. It's how easily he moved on, how he could be so okay now that she's gone, while she can't imagine ever loving anyone else.
Red lights, stop signs, his face in every white car and front yard. She can't drive past the old places. The composure drops and she just says it, twice, swearing through tears that she still loves him even knowing they're through.
“I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about”
The license was supposed to be the two of you. He taught her to drive, he was excited for her, the whole point was the day she'd finally pull up to his house. So she gets the keys, the freedom to go anywhere, and the only place anywhere leads is past his street. That's the cruelty of it. The milestone they planned together arrives and he isn't there for it, and now every road just loops her back toward him. She can't square it. She felt this for no one, ever, and somehow he's fine, blonde girl and all, so okay now that she's gone. He even wrote her a forever into a song and didn't mean a word. By the bridge the freedom is just a car she sits in alone, seeing his face in every white one, still loving him out loud past the place they're through.
She finally has the keys to drive anywhere, and the only place she ever ends up is alone outside the house of someone who's perfectly fine without her.
She got the license they always talked about, the one he was so excited for, the one that was supposed to end at his front door. Instead she's driving the suburbs alone and crying, because the day finally came and he isn't in it.
There's a blonde girl now, older, everything she's insecure about. What guts her isn't the girl. It's how easily he moved on, how he could be so okay now that she's gone, while she can't imagine ever loving anyone else.
Red lights, stop signs, his face in every white car and front yard. She can't drive past the old places. The composure drops and she just says it, twice, swearing through tears that she still loves him even knowing they're through.
“I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about”
It found you. You kept it.
See where it could land.
Pure Heroine
Ribs
Lorde
Best matches
Demo
feeling everything
songs that meet you where you are
3am thoughts
the spiral, but make it beautiful
crying in the car
for when you're driving and it hits you
Your songs have been trying to tell you something.