I'm guessing having conflicted thoughts are killing me one way or the other.
I'm the one who bled when I was 17.
I'm looking for love, not for me, for everyone else.
I'm a fool, I'm blind and I'm still walking.
I'm waiting for the musical backdrop they've been talking about.
I'm heading to Sydney, looking for my soulmate, him.
I'm already thinking about winter.
I'm Peter Pan, growing up is overrated for me.
I'm still a boy, your childish little boy.
The boy,
红毛仔
~listening to Plain White Ts's 1234~