A Greyhound bus to Boston
And a hotel that smelled like mold
With water stains washing the walls
Everything 17 years too old

Backs pressed to the wall of the museum
Hoping people would analyze us as art
I saw myself in every painting
I was Watson and I was the shark

I got lost among the city streets
Thought I was smart enough to navigate
But I'm never enough enough
The sun is setting and I am so scared