Sing

The little things that you found out The middle child gets left out Chasing tail lights in the dirt You've got a secret that fucking hurts After all you stick around I count the days that you've been gone I may be grown but I'm still your son Sing with me I still like to play our song Yeah I think I'm feeling sick again So I'll put paper under the pen And scribble down with in my head Like leaving trails in wet cement I'll get it out so I won't forget