Keep the noise low, she doesnt wanna blow it. She stripped from head to toe and then left him with the show me around. Go get your heartbeat. It beats me straight into the ground. You dont recover from a night like this. Our victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless. A hand moves in the dark to her zipper. And a boy best in tourniquet sheets barely whispers, "This is so messed up." Upon arrival the guests had all stared. Dripping wet and clearly depressed, hed headed straight for the stairs. No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch, unprepared for a life filled with lies and failing relationships. (Up the stairs, the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.) He keeps his hands low, he doesnt wanna blow it. Hes wet from head to toe and his eyes give her the up and the down. His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up. Get the body on the bed like its flowered and he starts going down. The fever, the focus... The reasons that I had to believe you werent too hard to sell. Die young and save yourself. The tickle, the taste of... It used to be the reason I breathed, and now its choking me up. Die young and save yourself. She hits the lights. This doesnt seem quite fair. Despite everything he learned from his friends, he doesnt feel so prepared. Shes breathing quiet and smooth, hes 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. Hes holding back from telling her exactly what it really feels like. He is the lamb, she is the slaughter. Shes moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her. Nothing that he tells hers really having an effect. He whispers that he loves her, but shes 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 full 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 werent too hard to sell. Die young and save yourself. The tickle, the taste of... It used to be the reason I breathed, and now its 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 werent too hard to sell. Die young and save yourself. The tickle, the taste of... It used to be the reason I breathed, and now its choking me up. Die young and save yourself.
Artist: Brand New
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