| Saturday night, living the dream
|
| Ordering drinks with your brother’s ID
|
| Pretending we like someone’s girlfriends band
|
| Put on our boots, carry our heels
|
| Stumbling home over the field
|
| Gin from a bottle stolen from her dad
|
| You smoke to choke the feeling
|
| 'Til the walls don’t meet the ceiling
|
| All we talk about is leaving
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| I know every streetlight
|
| And maybe the colours will fade
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| By the late nights and fires on the beach
|
| Made by the small town secrets we’d keep
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| Painting our face, straighten my hair
|
| Wait for the bus, take us somewhere
|
| Anywhere, as far away from home
|
| We’re playing poker down in a shed
|
| Talking about boys, now we call ex
|
| Freezing cold and we don’t even know
|
| You smoke to choke the feeling
|
| 'Til the walls don’t meet the ceiling
|
| All we talk about is leaving
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| I know every streetlight
|
| And maybe the colours will fade
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| By the late nights and fires on the beach
|
| Made by the small town secrets we’d keep
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| I know every streetlight
|
| And maybe the colours will fade
|
| This is the place we were made
|
| By the late nights and the fires on the beach
|
| Made by the small town secrets we’d keep
|
| All that I know is
|
| No matter how far away
|
| This is the place we were made |