Keep the noise low
|
She doesn't wanna blow it
|
Shake from head to toe
|
We're laughing 'cause the show me arounds
|
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 headed straight for the stairs
|
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch
|
Unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships
|
|
Upstairs, 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
|
|
Upstairs, 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
|
|
Upstairs, 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
|
|
-----------------
|
Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades
|
| We Are The In Crowd |
