i've reached the age of discharge
  of spitting up what they put in
  you look at me all sigh and sigh
  ask me have i cut it
  yeah i cut it all the time
  break it right down to the skin
  scrape it down to the skin
  talking to the walls new turned
  i'm talking to your face
  i've reached the age of discharge
  digression had its years of storming backstage
  storming backstage
  folded arms all
  trembling
  dying just to
  dying just to crash you precious car
  i'm dying just to
  dying just to crash your precious car
  he never hears his own voice
  i brace my lips too tight
  half spent on hoping for it
  to go right just to fuck it up
  i can't hold my hands still
  so how could i ever hold yours
  i invited you over for a locked door
  don't get there
  don't get there with me
  dont get there
  don't get there with me