I know a thing or two about you,
You're bs attitude.
You're weak and let me tell you it shows right through.
You don't know anything about me or my friends,
What they are what I am.
So cut the shit and try not to pretend.
You're scared of who and what we are and so you question yourself,
But your pride wont let you show your fear to anyone else.
You dont know me,
So dont judge me.
You dont know you,
You're too scared to.
You think you know,
Why im here after all these years.
You wanna know?
Well ill tell you why, GO.
For myself.
For my friends.
For my family.
FOREVER
Ill take this to the bitter end
You dont know a single thing about me,
Just what my enemies say.
Well, fuck them and fuck you,
That wont cut it today.
Be a man and stand up to find the truth in yourself,
For yourself,
By yourself and not from anyone else.
You think you know,
Why im here after all these years.
You wanna know?
Well ill tell you why, GO!
For myself.
For my friends.
For my family.
FOREVER
I'll take this to the bitter end.
(Where are you?)
I'm still here and still proud
and I still know what it takes to be true.
Yeah, to be true.
For myself
For my friends
For my family.
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.
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 se-...
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.
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.
"The people, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to settle.
They take all the taste out.
It used to be the reason that we're even, now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.
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