Saturday, May 13, 2006

Alysa [ 12:41 AM ] | 0 comments

Keep the noise low, she doesn't wanna blow it
Shaking head to toe while your left hand does "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 her zipper
Hear a boy bracing tight against the 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 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 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 in 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 ready for sex

(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.