Lucky thirteen mornings of staying in bed. Thirteen days left of this script in my head. I’m checking the labels on notebooks and glue. While wishing that I had a direct line to you. He’s the smartest kid that I met on the trail. But my courage in person is bound to just fail. His sixteen cool friends make a barrier wall. So I’m holding my phone in the back of the hall. (Pre-Chorus) It’s easier typing out what I should say. Than facing his crowd on that first chaotic day. The countdown is dropping, the clock doesn't stall. As summer prepares for its final curtain call. (Chorus) Thirteen days till the heavy glass entrance swings wide. Thirteen days left of this packing inside. Should I send him a text before everyone arrives? To see if our Pali connection survives? The seventh-grade pressure is clouding my screen. And I’m stuck in the static that falls in between. (Verse 3) My mind loops right back to the start of the ride. Listening to Bad Bunny with nowhere to hide. "DtMF" was playing, the bass line was deep. Before all these text-message doubts started to creep. Benito was warning of things left unsaid. While he choked down that s'more with a face turning red. His gang wasn't there in the dark pine trees. To witness him trying so hard just to please. (Outro) Thirteen days. Finger on send. Hoping a message can break through the bend. Three days of camp. Yeah, thirteen days. No photos to view. Just thirteen days. Of waiting on you. ───
