When we were young, within my room you will not find me, but you'll find me swinging from the highest branch on the highest tree.

We lost the simplicity of childhood and homes, like how the yard will be full of wet soil after rain, and those tiny little pebblestones, or how the roses used to prick our fingers, or that sweetness of summer that still lingers.

And we grew up. Chasing ghosts, losing hope when we need it most, endlessly counting what we've lost, unable to afford what it's gonna cost.

Tell me, in which grave my dreams and innocence went to? In which grave my hopes went cold and blue? In which moment I turned into someone I never knew?

And now we are older and sadder, within my room you still will not find me, but you'll find me hanging from the highest branch on the highest tree