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Christopher Young
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Pasadena
Pasadena is a place I always hate to leave,
And where I'd like my future love and I to stay,
Kept going back to the same places,
Park on my seventeenth birthday,
She asks to keep driving. And so we turn,
We quietly hold hands. Crazy to think,
But one day I'm gonna be an old man.
Back to the arcade, back to the past times,
Yet here we are, a decade later, still visiting,
This place is haunted and empty.
Wonder how it feels, this place full of ghosts
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