Oceans.

I started sending you a note on how "I hope that you’re happy". I hear you’re somewhere in the sand, and how I wish I was an ocean. Maybe then I'd get to see you again.

Why am I scarred from what she did to me? Why cant I trust anyone? No, not even me. Why don’t I just give in, have a drink and shake some hands?

I love The Format. Good bands should quit breaking up.