Her name is Noelle, I had a dream about her,
she messes with my head, makes me worry about
the little silly things we say to each other,
is this enfatuation, is this just regular air sign teasing?
Oh, how she rocks her big dr. martens and her
black cherry lipstick, she does know who I am,
we give so many damns about each other,
apart, in secret, in the solitude of people who've
discovered their sexuality way too late
to explore far enough in teenage years.
She's got two tickets to the girliest jam in the planet
let's listen to Olivia Rodrigo and cry
then drink
then make out
I'm just a mid-twenty-year-old dirtbag like you.
Oooooooooooooooooo.
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