| She brings lawn chairs to the beach
|
| So we can sit and eat our sandwiches
|
| And talk about how the spaceships
|
| Are coming soon to pick us up
|
| And her T-shirt lists the tour dates
|
| From seven years before our birthdays
|
| And we go on about foreign policy
|
| While they listen to our phones
|
| There’s good and there’s bad
|
| We fight, we get mad
|
| But we’re happy (Happy, happy, happy, ah)
|
| She wants more than she has
|
| She blames God and her dad
|
| But we’re happy (Happy, happy, happy, ah)
|
| There are 16 shades of violet
|
| And some are loud and some are silent
|
| She writes apologies 'stead of the thank you cards
|
| 'Cause humility keeps her whole
|
| And she skips New Year’s and and Christmas
|
| 'Cause it reminds her of the distance
|
| She feels from everyone else around her
|
| In a crowded mall, she’s most alone
|
| She digs too deep
|
| She feels, she can’t sleep
|
| But she’s happy (Happy, happy, happy, ah)
|
| She’s strong, but she’s scared
|
| She don’t let herself go there
|
| And she’s happy (Happy, happy, happy, ah)
|
| Cloudy with a chance of sun
|
| She pulls a polo on
|
| She’s gonna make me talk
|
| Coffee in a plastic cup
|
| I walk her to her bus
|
| On the quiet drive to Ohi'
|
| To see her mom’s hospital skyline
|
| Where she sang to her for the last time
|
| This very day, four years ago
|
| And in silence, we connect to
|
| The only ones we could sit next to
|
| The only ones that we made sense to
|
| I held her hand the whole way home
|
| And we cried, we ate
|
| But we laugh always
|
| 'Cause we’re happy
|
| I’m hers and she’s mine
|
| We’re messed up, but it’s fine
|
| 'Cause we’re happy (Happy, happy, happy, ah)
|
| Cloudy with a chance of sun
|
| She pulls a polo on
|
| She’s gonna make me talk
|
| Coffee in a plastic cup
|
| I walk her to her bus |