Counterfeit Guitars

Driving by your house
I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia
And as I pull out of your street
I remember how you lost her

And in your downstairs bedroom
We wrote our revolution
Armed with counterfeit guitars
And disputable amounts of talent

And our ideals were all borrowed
We just didn't know it yet
So perhaps just, this once
They were authentic

And the hardest part
Is I just can't call you up to reminisce
Coz I fucked up
And my ego was too big
To admit it
And I know it's no excuse
But I was young
And I was frightened
I'd seen the road down which
You were heading
And I couldn't face it again

Cruising through those backstreets
I passed by that old school yard
Where we both grew into ourselves
We realised, that life
Wasn't for the likes of us
(Following, blindly following)

And the hardest part
Is I just can't call you up to reminisce
Coz I fucked up
And my ego was too big
To admit it
And I know it's no excuse
But I was young
And I was frightened
I'd seen the road down which
You were heading
And I couldn't face it again

Couldn't face it again
Couldn't face it again
Couldn't face it again

So tell me
Can you feel it?
The aching in your bones?
The one that reverberates
And lodges in your skull?
The near constant headache
That intensifies each time
We think of the good undone
Coz we couldn't nurse our pride?

So tell me
Can you feel it?
The aching in your bones?
The one that reverberates
And lodges in your skull?
The near constant headache
That intensifies each time
We think of the good undone
Coz we couldn't nurse our pride?

And the hardest part
Is I just can't call you up to reminisce
Coz I fucked up
And my ego was too big
To admit it
And I know it's no excuse
But I was young
And I was frightened
I'd seen the road down which
You were heading
And I couldn't face it again

And the hardest part
Is I just can't call you up to reminisce
Coz I fucked up
And my ego was too big
To admit it
And I know it's no excuse
But I was young
And I was frightened
I'd seen the road down which
You were heading