Sometimes you don’t see that boy that gets a cool rag for your fever, or buys sour patch watermelons when you’re sad. He’s hidden behind the wild ones. The ones that like to tease and wears dog tags. Youre Blind to the one your mother likes and the one who knows you like the song for just for the raspy part of the chorus. Because the other boys grab your hip bones when you kiss and compliments what you’re wearing.