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 headed straight for the stairs
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch
Unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships

He keeps his hands low
(Up the stairs)
He doesn't wanna blow it
He's wet from head to toe and
(The station where)
His eyes give her the up and the down
(The act becomes)
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up
But the body on the bed beckons forward
(The art of growing up)
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's really having an effect
He whispers that he loves her
But she's probably only looking for...

So much more than he could ever give
(Up the stairs)
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship
(the station where)
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides
(The act becomes)
He waits for it to end
(The art of growing up)
And for the aching in his gut 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 its choking me up
DIE YOUNG AND SAVE YOURSELF

See also:
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