Sic Transit Gloria ... Glory Fades

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

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

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 s-

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