We talked about the d** and we
Decided to abstain but still we
Locked ourselves inside and then
My fingers locked behind your head
You hooked your pinkies on my jeans
I'm twenty-eight and you're nineteen
Compa**ion, compa**ion
The innocent fun soon-to-be
Will start to feel like currency
As we try to get it on in bed
You've given me your home and head
You put on The Queen Is Dead
But I just want to talk instead
Compa**ion, compa**ion