i've reached the age of discharge

of spitting up what they put in

you look at me all sigh and sigh

ask me have i cut it

yeah i cut it all the time

break it right down to the skin

scrape it down to the skin

talking to the walls new turned

i'm talking to your face

i've reached the age of discharge

digression had its years of storming backstage

storming backstage

folded arms all

trembling

dying just to

dying just to crash you precious car

i'm dying just to

dying just to crash your precious car

he never hears his own voice

i brace my lips too tight

half spent on hoping for it

to go right just to fuck it up

i can't hold my hands still

so how could i ever hold yours

i invited you over for a locked door

don't get there

don't get there with me

dont get there

don't get there with me