The crew gets meat at midnight, but they never can go far. They hold each other too close and lie about who they are. Rows of perfect houses, but the mothers still want more. They chain smoke in the bedroom and there’s fights behind the door.
But fate is a cruel mistress, girl, the prettiest in the world. She dresses loosely in a bathrobe with her hair up in curls. Because we were kissing for hours with her hands in my trousers, she could not contain herself, suggests we go back to her house. But here it comes, this is the crux, she vomits down my rental tux.
Milkshakes and cat eyes, lipstick and french fries. Internalize so much but so little. Don’t make us feel belittled world. Sneaking cigarrettes at lunchtime, sun feels safe and sublime. Pink sparkly sunglasses, lemonade by the pool.
And all we see, are kids in buses longing to be free. Some cities make you lose your head, endless suburbs stretched out thin and dead. And what was that line you said? Wishing you were anywhere but here. You watch the life you’re living disappear. And now I see, we’re still kids in buses longing to be free.