Blue jeans, white shirt. Walked into the room you know you made

Blue jeans,

white shirt. Walked into the room 
you know you made my eyes burn.
It was like,James Dean..for sure.
You're so fresh to death  and sick as cancer.
You were sorta punk rock,I grew up on hiphop
but you fit me better than my favourite sweater.
And I know,that love is mean and love hurts.
But I still remember that day we met
back in December.