Flying Model Rockets [My Grandma Vs. Pneumonia Version] The Front Bottoms

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Flying model rockets own the sky
In the backyard next to mine
I get these strange phone calls at night
With no one on the other side

My brother's friend explains to me
With breathless words, bloody knees
It's a black eyed trust, respect with pain
A love that I'll learn when I've been through the same

When I've been through the same
When I've been through the same

And there's nothing in California
That you could not learn to hate here
Questions will all still be waiting for you
Answers will only be less clear

It's hard to say what I would do
If I was back a year or two
Look at our plans, try to understand
What could have happened to all of them

To all of them
Oh, to all of them