“Would you look at that" my dad says casually, as a black bird sat not a foot away studying our faces while staring from the overhang. Your tracks stopped, as I turned to meet your gaze, I couldn't read your face for the next three minutes.

How are you making out this year? Had to move in with your dad, nearly hitting thirty. Couldn't hide that it's hurting. And no one’s asked how you’ve been. How’ve you been?

Cause there's a bush down by the path you take. It leads up to a parking gate where you wish you could steal that kiss from that girl you couldn't talk to. This silence has got you afraid.

This shouldn't be your life. And no one has asked if you’ve been happy in years because we all know the answer. I wish I could still hear.

How are you making out this year? Had to move in with your dad, nearly hitting thirty. Couldn't hide that it's hurting. And no one has asked how you’ve been. ‘Cause we all know the answer. I wish I could still hear the bird.

There’s a bush down by the path you take. It leads up to a parking gate, where you wish you could steal that kiss from that girl you couldn’t talk to... this silence... it shouldn’t be yours.

No one has asked if you’ve been happy in years.

There’s a bush down by the path you take it leads up to that parking gate, where you wish you could steal that...

Steal that...