I once knew a kid who had a crush on a girl named Krista.
He had brown, shaggy hair and liked girls then
—he wouldn’t always.
But at that moment in time,
somewhere between goofy and awkward,
there was a kid with a crush.
He didn’t know it wouldn’t last.
is a dangerous drug when the prescription runs dry:
dry lips, dry tears, and dry soul to the pains of reality.
The weight of the world was someone else’s eyes.
And fifteen years was a drag.
And the cops never wanted to know
like the parents never needed to know,
you were a kid.
Cassettes and little girls I thought.
Would we ever make it at all?
I want you to make it clear,
I want you to make it complex,
I want you as how you were,
once a kid with a crush on a girl named Krista.
Blood down my arms,
sink turned red,
razor turned black,
mirror gone white,
and I thought Cassettes and little girls.
If only you could’ve held me tight,
not for the man I am,
but for the kid who once had a crush
on a girl named Krista.