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