I'm sick of all these people saying
"Life is so mundane"
I'm sitting in the back of class
I'm really not okay

And I am a sunrise
I am pouring over mountains
And your eyes aren't brown
They are golden
They are golden

[*turning the page*]

You are fresh air on a starry night
And I'm at a room of noisy people
They drink and they laugh and you shake your head
When I say that your eyes aren't brown

And I am a sunrise
I am pouring over mountains
And your eyes, no, they're not brown
They are golden
They are golden

And I write a song while my hands are so cold
Because I need to tell you, you're Bill Gates
I'm so cliché, I've got nothing to say
Other than, I guess, "You're pretty cool"

And I am a sunrise
I am pouring over mountains
Your eyes aren't brown
They are golden
They are golden