When we were young, we could piss [?] the boys' [?], a black expanse of pitch, or tar, or whatever it was, it doesn't matter much anymore. And [?] with the girls before the advent of pubescent awe and confusion. Knickers thick, pasty in the roar of adolescence's dawn. How innocent and cruel ran the gauntlet of first stirrings in the changing rooms of May
Where are you now? Don't answer that
I'm still ugly. You're still fat. I've still got spots. I'm still afraid
Our parents made us what we are. Or was it God? Who gives a fuck; it's never really over
[Background - Left Channel]
Trunks, dripping slowly into the gutter and the floor. Canopy's stretched black
[Background - Right Channel]
You could- I could- it's [?]
Artist: Motorhead
Artist: Billy Joel
Artist: George Strait