You're always made up

I hate how every time I call you there's a million people yelling in the background, or loud music playing so I can hardly even hear what you're saying. Then you usually start laughing and end up hanging up on me. Sometimes even while I'm in the middle of talking to you.

Screw you, your drugs, and your parties.

But when I say lets keep in touch, I really mean I wish that you'd grow up.
This is the first song for your mixed tape. And it's short just like my temper. But somewhat golden like the afternoons we used to spend, before you got too cool.