I yearn for the days of Dr. Hook and Tom Petty,
When the house was full of fun and light.
Rooms clouded with sweet smelling smoke,
Different people there every night.
I miss the days when a stereo would blare,
Me, a twelve year old with a contact high.
We would dance, not caring who watched,
As we raised our eager hands to the sky.
I miss falling asleep under the stars,
Hung from my ceiling with fishing line.
The breeze from the fan would make them dance
And send cool shivers up my spine.
I yearn for the days of beer runs and grilling out,
Running from the smoke of the fire.
We played in the river and I learned to dive.
Seems like we never ever grew tired.
I miss the smell of alcohol and marijuana,
And good music floating through the air.
We stayed up way past our bedtime,
And no one was sober enough to care.
I miss the days of old Hank and George Jones,
When I was a little girl with a home.
I dream of a past that never seemed so good,
Until you're all alone.