Verse 1) Sixteen mornings left to stay in my sheets. Sixteen days till we’re swapping our seats. I’m packing up notebooks, preparing my mind. Leaving the warmth of the summer behind. They claim that he’s reckless, a rebel at heart. But I think he’s awesome and brilliant and smart. I don't care if he's breaking the rules of the town. I just want him there when the curtains go down. (Pre-Chorus) My friends say he's trouble, but they just don't see. The guy on the mountain who sat next to me. Now the countdown is shrinking and hitting a wall. As the calendar slides to the middle of fall. [1] (Chorus) Sixteen days till the locker rows hum. Sixteen days till the classrooms succumb. Did he trade in his old smile for something real cold? Will he act like our summer is yesterday’s news? The seventh-grade pressure is starting to rise. And I’m looking for truth in the back of his eyes. [1] (Verse 2) I look at the rosters and study the screen. To see if his name falls right in between. If he walks through the entrance with dirt on his shoes. Will he sit by my desk or have nothing to lose? I’m caught in the shadow of what people guess. While secretly praying he’ll clear out my stress. Let them whisper their rumors, it's nothing to me. With sixteen days left of this wild mystery. (Verse 3) My mind takes me back to the start of the trip. On the bus ride to camp with a soda to sip. I had "DtMF" turned up in my ear. Looking out at the highway as Pali drew near. Now the lyrics hit hard when Benito sings out. About wishing for photos and clearing the doubt. Because I should have taken a picture that night. When he choked down a s'more by the bonfire light. [1, 2, 3] (Pre-Chorus) My friends say he's trouble, but they just don't see. The guy on the mountain who sat next to me. Now the countdown is shrinking and hitting a wall. As the calendar slides to the middle of fall. [1] (Bridge) If he plays his rap music and acts like a star, I’ll remind him of who we completely still are. Will he mention the track that I played on the way? Or pretend that Camp Pali was miles away? My pulse starts to skip and my confidence breaks. A seventh-grade sequel with dangerous stakes. One grin could remind him of how it all felt. And make every rumor completely just melt. [1] (Chorus) Sixteen days till the locker rows hum. Sixteen days till the classrooms succumb. Did he trade in his old smile for something real cold? Will he act like our summer is yesterday’s news? The seventh-grade pressure is starting to rise. And I’m looking for truth in the back of his eyes. [1] (Outro) Sixteen days. "DtMF" on reply. Staring right up at the mid-August sky. Three days of camp. Yeah, sixteen days. I should've taken more pictures. Just sixteen days. Trapped in the fixtures. ───
