Eight Years Old

I'm waking up, and I'm feeling eight years old

I'm not quite scared, staying all alone

And it feels like I'm growing up too fast

I can tell, oh, this won't last

Going day to day, going week to week

We're going month to month

Oh, pack up your things, on a holy march

'Cause I can't say when we're coming back

Sorry I can't tell you much, honey that's the fact

I can't tell what's going wrong

But things been like this, oh, for way too long

That's me and him

Mom's been crying, and I'm staring blank

Thinking what the hell is this going to take?

I'm going day to day, I'm going week to week

I'm going month to month

Oh, pack up your things, on the holy march

I can't say when we're coming back

Sorry I can't tell you much, honey that's the fact

And I'm asking, "Mom, when we gettin' home?"

You said, oh, I don't know, but this ain't home

And I know it feels like you're walking alone

But you've still got both of us to send every home

I'm going day to day, going week to week

I'm going month to month

Oh, pack up your things, on the holy march

'Cause I can't say when we're coming back

Sorry I can't tell you much, honey that's the fact

We're going day to day, going week to week

Going month to month

Oh, pack up your things, on a holy march

'Cause I can't say when we're coming back

Sorry I can't tell you much, honey that's the fact