Verse 1) Two exact weeks left of absolute peace. Fourteen days left till the quiet must cease. I’m picking out shoes for the very first week. While practicing sentences I’m too scared to speak. He’s still the same kid who was brilliant and smart. But his crew makes it hard to trust my own heart. Those sixteen cool guys are always right there. Creating a wall that I don't want to dare. (Pre-Chorus) I get so defensive when certain folks stay. It locks up my jaw and it blocks what I say. I’m just watching the calendar pages flip down. While his annoying loud circle takes over the town. [1, 2] (Chorus) Fourteen days till the locker rows hum. Fourteen days till the classrooms succumb. Will I freeze in my tracks when I see his whole pack? Or find the right words to bring everything back? The seventh-grade pressure is locking my throat. And I'm drifting away like a lost little boat. (Verse 2) I look at the map of the hallways and floors. Predicting the crowds by the cafeteria doors. If he’s laughing and joking with certain loud names. I know I’ll get nervous and back out of games. I hate how I hide when the audience grows. And the confidence leaves from my head to my toes. They don't even know me, but they make me feel small. With a fourteen-day countdown against a brick wall. (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. (Pre-Chorus) I get so defensive when certain folks stay. It locks up my jaw and it blocks what I say. I’m just watching the calendar pages flip down. While his annoying loud circle takes over the town. [1, 2] (Bridge) If I see him alone for a second or two, I’ll easily tell him the things that I knew. But if his loud circle is blocking the space, I’ll probably look down and just clear out the place. My breathing goes shallow, my hands start to shake. A seventh-grade hurdle I'm trying to make. One moment of courage is all that I need. To break through the crowd and let summer succeed. [1] (Chorus) Fourteen days till the locker rows hum. Fourteen days till the classrooms succumb. Will I freeze in my tracks when I see his whole pack? Or find the right words to bring everything back? The seventh-grade pressure is locking my throat. And I'm drifting away like a lost little boat. (Outro) Fourteen days. Two weeks to go. Frozen in place when the certain guys show. Three days of camp. Yeah, fourteen days. No pictures to share. Just fourteen days. Left hanging right there. ───
