Thirteen and Gone
Wore ’82 in an ’88 crowd,
Hung with the quiet, but I played it loud.
First smoke lit at thirteen cold,
Searching for fire, for stories to hold.
Asked the baddest if there’s a place,
He said, “There’s a party — don’t ask, just come.”
Got drunk, got lost, fell in love with the haze,
Left my old crew in a dead-end phase.
Thirteen and gone, out in the night,
Bottles and dreams under broken streetlights.
No ride home, just miles of black,
Walkin’ 9.5 with the world on my back.
Park bench beds, stairwell skies,
Living too fast, but feeling alive.
Every weekend, chasing the burn,
No direction, no return.
New names, new sins to share,
No regrets — just didn’t care.
City calls with an outlaw hum,
Hearts like drums, too young, too numb.
Thirteen and gone, left it behind,
Looking for something I’d never find.
The cold, the dark, the fire, the song —
We were messed up, but we belonged.
Yeah, thirteen and gone,
Still hear that ghost rollin’ on.
Still hear that ghost…
…rollin’ on.
