|
Keep the noise low. |
|
She doesn't wanna blow it. |
|
Shaking head to toe |
|
While your left hand does the show me around. |
|
Quickens your heartbeat. |
|
It beats me straight into the ground. |
|
You don't recover from a night like this. |
|
A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless. |
|
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper. |
|
Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets |
|
Barely whisper, this is so messed up. |
|
Upon arrival the guests had all stared. |
|
Dripping wet and clearly depressed, |
|
He'd headed straight for the stairs. |
|
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch, |
|
Unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships. |
|
(up the stairs: the station where |
|
The act becomes the art of growing up.) |
|
He keeps his hands low. |
|
He doesn't wanna blow it. |
|
He's wet from head to toe and |
|
His eyes give her the up and the down. |
|
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up. |
|
But the body on the bed beckons forward |
|
And he starts growing up. |
|
The fever, the focus. |
|
The reasons that i had to believe |
|
You weren't too hard to sell. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
|
The tickle, the taste of... |
|
It used to be the reason i breathed |
|
But now it's choking me up. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
|
She hits the lights. |
|
This doesn't seem quite fair. |
|
Despite everything he learned from his friends, |
|
He doesn't feel so prepared. |
|
She's breathing quiet and smooth. |
|
He's gasping for air. |
|
this is the first and last time, he says. |
|
She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his. |
|
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides. |
|
He's holding back from telling her |
|
Exactly what it really feels like. |
|
He is the lamb, she is the slaughter. |
|
She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her. |
|
Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect. |
|
He whispers that he loves her, |
|
But she's probably only looking for... |
|
(up the stairs: the station where |
|
The act becomes the art of growing up.) |
|
So much more than he could ever give. |
|
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship. |
|
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides. |
|
He waits for it to end |
|
And for the aching in his guts to subside. |
|
The fever, the focus. |
|
The reasons that i had to believe |
|
You weren't too hard to sell. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
|
The tickle, the taste of... |
|
It used to be the reason i breathed |
|
But now it's choking me up. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
|
Up the stairs: the station where |
|
The act becomes the art of growing up. |
|
The fever, the focus. |
|
The reasons that i had to believe |
|
You weren't too hard to sell. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
|
The tickle, the taste of... |
|
It used to be the reason i breathed |
|
But now it's choking me up. |
|
Die young and save yourself. |
