We were sweet, weren't we? And that's why my eyes sting I ran away 'cause our fires didn't burn the same You know I hate biting my tongue Kissed your cheek until you stayed Feeling that was our last Friday You tasted like lemonade, sweeter than the cake we made I knew nothing would ever taste the same But I'll still read your poetry When I'm old and crow's feet remain From when our cheeks would hurt the same And I'll keep relics of the mess we made Relics of the mess we made Thankful for every page My heart melted with each note you made Who's your next muse? Who is mine? And whose will I be? Will we find Ourselves in between the lines? But I'll still read your poetry When I'm old and crow's feet remain From when our cheeks would hurt the same And I'll keep relics of the mess we made Relics of the mess we made One cold night, one stone bench Two of us, two young kids Three strong words I never said aloud One cold night, one stone bench Two of us, two young kids Three strong words I never said aloud But I'll still read your poetry When I'm old and crow's feet remain From when our cheeks would hurt the same And I'll keep relics of the mess we made Relics of the mess we made One cold night, one last kiss Though it hurts, we're just kids I'm sorry it all ended up like this But who's your next muse? Who is mine? And whose will I be? Will we find Ourselves in between the lines?