Verse 1) Five mornings left to stay in my sheets. Five days till we’re swapping our seats. I’m charging my phone, clearing out my old storage. While trying to build up a ounce of real courage. He’s writing down lyrics in the back of his book. While his sixteen loud friends give a menacing look. They’re annoying but cool, and they follow his lead. Creating a barrier that I don't need. (Pre-Chorus) I get so defensive when certain folk stare. It makes me rewrite every word that I’d dare. The countdown is dropping, the clock doesn't stall. As summer prepares for its final curtain call. (Chorus) Five days till the heavy glass entrance swings wide. Five days left of this packing inside. Will he pull out an earbud to hear what I say? Or mock my favorite reggaeton artist today? The seventh-grade pressure is clouding my screen. And I’m stuck in the static that falls in between. (Verse 3) My mind runs away to the start of the trip. To the window-seat view and the juice that I'd sip. When "DtMF" was the track in my head. Before all these nervous assumptions were bred. Benito was singing of frames that we missed. While I made a silent Camp Pali wish list. His sixteen cool friends weren't there for the joke. When he ate that bad s'more in the campfire smoke. (Outro) Five days. Earbuds and tracks. Hoping the future can help us relax. Three days of camp. Yeah, five days. No camera roll frames. Just five days. Of avoiding their games.
