see you riding your bike past the old chain links
wiry hair
doing tricks that your mama can't stand
no hands on the handles, your eyes are on me
bad attitude, it's paper thin like a LITE-BRITE
maybe all that goodness ripped those holes in your jeans
look down at my polka dot sneakers and shorts
kick the dirt by the swings 'cause it's never quite right
always play by that book that maybe doesn't exist
stiller and stiller until no longer seen
see sticky hands clasp together, peanut butter and honey
Chevy smoke all around but there's plenty of air
heavy leaves cover tracks and stick to our backs
we shout from big trees
we are young
we are free
no one can stop us
we are young
we are free
we cannot be broken
we are young
we are free
we will not be unseen
we are young
we are free
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