Keep the noise low She doesn't wanna blow it Shaking head to toe while your left hand does "the show me around" Quickens your heartbeat It beats me straight into the ground You don't recover from a night like this A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless A hand moves in the dark to a zipper Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets barely whisper, "This is so messed up" Upon arrival the guests had all stared Dripping wet and clearly depressed, he'd headed straight for the stairs No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch, unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships (Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up) He keeps his hands low He doesn't wanna blow it He's wet from head to toe and his eyes give her the up and the down His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up But the body on the bed beckons forward and he starts growing up The fever, the focus The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell Die young and save yourself The tickle, the taste of It used to be the reason I breathed but now it's choking me up Die young and save yourself She hits the lights This doesn't seem quite fair Despite everything he learned from his friends, he doesn't feel so prepared She's breathing quiet and smooth He's gasping for air "This is the first and last time," he says She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides He's holding back from telling her exactly what it really feels like He is the lamb, she is the slaughter She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect He whispers that he loves her, but she's probably only looking for se- (Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up) So much more than he could ever give A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides He waits for it to end and for the aching in his guts to subside The fever, the focus The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell Die young and save yourself The tickle, the taste of It used to be the reason I breathed but now it's choking me up Die young and save yourself Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up The fever, the focus The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to sell Die young and save yourself The tickle, the taste of It used to be the reason I breathed but now it's choking me up Die young and save yourself "The people, the focus The reasons that I had to believe you weren't too hard to settle Die young and save yourself They take all the taste out It used to be the reason that we're even, now it's choking me up Die young and save yourself"]