I'd Rather Be In Times Square

So we sat in an empty parking lot

With music coming from your phone.

It struck me odd that technology had come this far

While my car had a cassette player alone.

I watched you move your bangs from your eyes

Like you didn't really want it there.

Like your security blanket was no longer needed.

Like you wanted me to see you past your hair.

Like it was just bothering you and I read too deeply into everything.

I grabbed your hands as we walked back up the stairs,

Or, really, stumbled in your case.

There's a painting of Jesus in this kid's apartment,

And I need to get out of this place.

I've never been in a Sunshine State of Mind,

And I-95 South I'd never dare to go near.

But after seeing the fireworks reflect in your eyes,

I knew we had to celebrate the new year out of here.

So we hopped on the highway,

With no intentions to stop.

There's just something about headlights and a pretty girl

That makes it okay to miss the ball drop.

You said you'd never seen someone like me before,

And, "My friends said I'd need someone unique."

I've been here before, so like clockwork, I said,

"It's all part of my technique."

Tampa didn't seem too inviting at 3am,

And I truly didn't feel like I was making a cleft.

So I turned back around to the First Coast.

I don't think it even knew I left.

You passed out near Ocala,

While the moon shone bright.

For the first time in years,

This city has finally felt right.