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