I have this friend from Hawaii
The two of us, we’ve been friends for a long time
For two and a half years
Though, for half a decade I somewhat knew him
At least I heard of his name
Here and there, from place to place
I always saw him drifting past me, he intrigued me
We knew familiar monsters and we fought them together, without a clue
Yet until some halves ago we never met helm to helm
and for a while we never lifted them
My friend from Hawaii,
He likes to call himself a punker, he’s a truly free spirit
I do the same to imitate, yet I’m nothing like he is
He has dreams so grand that they make my mind feel like a child’s dollhouse
His pure heart makes mine feel blackened and vile
For a while, I thought my feelings were that of wanting to be him
I like to talk to him, quite a lot
When I feel pierced by the arrows of my thousands of sins
Something about his chirpy tune sounds heroic
When he tells me about the little things he likes I feel something is being saved within me
The way he shines, it blinds me
He’s an artistic soul, despite it all nothing stops him from creating
When I continue to destroy he always creates
He’ll be going places, I wish I could follow
I want to be his future, and that’s selfish
I really like to talk about him, quite a lot
I like to ruin my conversations with peers by talking about him again and again
All I ask for is that they don’t ask me how I feel about him, I wouldn’t like to lie
I really wouldn’t like to lie
My good friend from Hawaii
I took a peek underneath his barrier, selfishly
I saw his true face for a short while, and it was beautiful
It was so beautiful
It made me learn he was more afraid of us than I was of me
and it made me learn that he could see what I was all along, through a crack in my mask
When I greedily placed my hand on his cheek, felt its softness, he snuck a look underneath
My friend, my poor friend, what he had to see
Back again we return to our normal
I’ve tainted his spirit with my touch, like a dirty vixen
and again we are friends, he is my friend from Hawaii again
Although what I saw was true, I continue to lie and wonder why my nickname was Texas boy
I say it’s just another tease, a jab between friends, because it’s easier
I lie and say it means nothing to me, because it’s easier
Island boy, maybe I’ll call him that in secret
I’m too afraid to find out if it would mean the same to him as being his Texas boy meant to me.
