"The bridge is all crumbled.
The water soaks into rocks
that fell at the bottom of the road (At the end of the town.)
The town that we lived in.
The memories shaken apart from the weeds that grow

Over the sidewalks,
Running away from the streets we knew,
Sidewalks,
Like the time we thought was made for you.
Or

Out on the front porch,
watching the cars as they go by
(Eighteen blue, twenty one grey)
Looking ahead for the first time that we could drive,
Out on our own,
To speed away "

- Story Of The Year