I'm Not Seventeen

Hey cheekbones and eyes

I've been gone three weeks, now I'm a mess

My stomach's on strike

And it's been three weeks since my last breath

Well, I don't know why I'm here

'Cause I'm not in need of attention

And I'm not seventeen

And I don't believe in that which I can't see

Well, I swear if I make it home

With my mind and some skin on my bones

I'll be the first one to throw up these car keys and this cell phone

So I can't leave or talk to anyone

And this stupid wristwatch so I'm unaware of the time that I've lost

I'm trying to be that which I'm not