I was once told to jump out of the black, and into the blue.
So I followed all the rules I knew
and I broke all of the rules I wanted to
I even sped my convertible naked and alone through Pasadena.
It's my payroll, my body, my time, and my energy
It's my lifestyle, my sadness, my sexuality, my friends, and my family.
I was once told to look into someone's eyes when I am speaking to them.
So I fell in love with everyone I saw,
I lusted after every older man that looked at me.
I licked the hot blacktop of southern California highways.
Time feels slower when you stare out into the valley,
When your hair blows in the wind, straight into your fake eyelashes.
That's how I know I'll be twenty forever.
I was once told that friends kill themselves, I was once told that friends kill other people.
Maybe I don't understand accidents, maybe I just don't understand love.
We sped down the 101, laughing, and told stories of love and loss
How can someone as beautiful as you be stuck on Hollywood Boulevard so late at night?
How can someone as beautiful as me know the scarring pain of tragedy, of anger?
I was once told that doves return to where they know they belong.
They fly out of the cemeteries, dodging skyscrapers and palm trees
They settle back in the valley, and they're home once again
A dove knows whatís beyond this flow
A dove knows just where to go
Fairy tales will always just be fairy tales, after all.
I chew my fingernails in anxiety,
I breathe in, and I laugh so hard I weep.
I weep for hours, and my eyes roll back
This is sixteen, but this is also twenty
Itís a lot of things but itís definitely not superposition
But as I throw myself into the Pacific Ocean, rambling like a crazy person
I know I am home, home at last.