Verse 1) Eight days left of this slow-moving haze. Eight days left of these open-ended days. I’m zipping my backpack and checking the straps. While mapping out all of our potential overlaps. He’s a rebel to some, but he’s intelligent and kind. The most vibrant memory stuck in my mind. But his sixteen loud friends are a massive distraction. That completely halts all of my social interaction. (Pre-Chorus) I get so defensive when certain folks stay. It alters my posture and blocks what I say. The numbers are dropping, the clock doesn't wait. As we inch closer to the middle school gate. (Chorus) Eight days till the locker rows hum. Eight days till the classrooms succumb. Will I blend in the background and watch from afar? While he acts like a rebel and plays the big star? The seventh-grade pressure is blocking my throat. And I’m sinking down deep in my oversized coat. (Verse 3) My thoughts take me back to the bus window view. When the world was just camp and the sky was brand new. I had Bad Bunny blasting real loud in my ear. "DtMF" was the song that chased out the fear. Benito sang out about frames left behind. While I stared at the boy who was teasing my mind. His cool gang wasn't there on that final camp night. When he choked down that s'more by the bonfire light. (Outro) Eight days. Zipping it tight. Hoping the future turns out to be bright. Three days of camp. Yeah, eight days. No photos to share. Just eight days. Left hanging right there.
