This is the last of the washed-out summer dreams
in the backseats of muscle cars and through screen doors
young love is deader than ever
blame it on gin, guilt, pills, fruad, scratch off tickets
and teenage pregnancy
from born to run to born to lose
without the James Dead attitude
like a brown bag hero who says
put the kids to bed tonight, cause i'm not coming back this time
from stealing cigarettes from vending machines
to my very first trache ring
when these lips hit god's ears they say this hurts so much less than you promised it would
i've got the same lips as our hero and they say no future
in the backseats of muscle cars and through screen doors
young love is deader than ever
blame it on gin, guilt, pills, fruad, scratch off tickets
and teenage pregnancy
from born to run to born to lose
without the James Dead attitude
like a brown bag hero who says
put the kids to bed tonight, cause i'm not coming back this time
from stealing cigarettes from vending machines
to my very first trache ring
when these lips hit god's ears they say this hurts so much less than you promised it would
i've got the same lips as our hero and they say no future